


Ink

by calenmir



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Chicago setting, Coming Out, Declarations Of Love, Falling In Love, First Time, Hand Jobs, Library, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Virginity, tattoo shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:04:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calenmir/pseuds/calenmir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt from the Hobbit Kink Meme: "I just want a modern day AU in which Dwalin is a tattoo artist and Ori is a librarian, and they somehow meet. Either because Dwalin gets a book (to prove to his brother he actually reads, goddammit), or because Ori walks into Dwalin's tattoo parlour (he went in there to rebel against his brother Dori, but he realizes the second he walks in that he doesn't want a tattoo)."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. More than Flash

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think I had any interest in modern AUs. I didn't think I had any interest in Dwalin/Ori. But something about this prompt grabbed me by the throat and MADE ME write it...

Ori took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the tattoo shop. A loud bell jangled and the young man behind the counter glanced up briefly, then dropped his eyes back to his laptop somewhat dismissively.

He took a few steps into the shop. It was loud, with a strange high-pitched squealing buzz that he knew must be the tattoo machine coming from somewhere behind the folding screens set up beyond the counter. There were red vinyl-covered benches in the middle of the small waiting room, and the walls were lined with pages covered in bright imagery for the tattoo-ee to browse through--what Ori's careful research had told him was called "flash." The whole place smelled like disinfectant, which was encouraging, and incense, which was not. 

Summoning his courage, Ori approached the counter. The young man there, a muscular white kid with his blond dreadlocks pulled back into a thick tail at the nape of his neck and his beard and mustache worn long and braided with beads, looked at him expectantly.

"I'd...uh...like a tattoo," Ori managed.

The blond kid cast an eye up and down Ori, taking him in. His expression was skeptical, but his voice seemed friendly enough when he said, "Yeah, Mister Dwalin's got a client right now. But he should be done in a bit if you wanna wait. $50 an hour, $50 minimum regardless of size. Just need your ID real quick. Got a design picked out?"

"Uh, some ideas," Ori hedged as he pulled out his license. It was only partly a lie. He wanted something tough and manly, like...like...a _dragon_ , or something. Something Dori would _hate_. Really, Dori would hate any tattoo Ori got, but Ori really wanted to stick it to him.

"Check out the flash while you wait," the blond kid suggested, handing his license back. "Maybe narrow your ideas down."

Ori nodded and wandered over to the artwork-covered walls. He stared at the sheets of pin-up girls, roses, barbed-wire; sheets of panthers, wolves, and, yes, dragons. One sheet had a selection of flower or dagger-bedecked banners with "NAME HERE" filled in the blank space. Another held nothing but Japanese kanji symbols, most of which Ori was certain did not mean what the sheet claimed they meant. There were nautical-themed sheets, sheets covered in so-called "tribal" designs, sheets with flaming skulls and winged skulls and skulls with huge fangs. 

None of this was right, none of it was what he really wanted. In fact, Ori was swiftly beginning to regret having come in here at all. The tattoo on that barista the other day had been so beautiful, elaborate, vividly-colored flowers and vines twining around her forearm and disappearing up under her sleeve. It had been like a painting, like something you'd see in a museum, but even more beautiful, somehow, for having been alive. Ori had commented on it to Dori and had been shocked and angry at his brother's reaction, though not really _surprised_ , as such.

"Oh, dear," Dori had clucked. "She could have been so pretty if she'd just respected herself enough not to do that. Who will ever marry a girl like that now?"

Ori had stammered something about thinking the girl was still pretty, then blushed in silent fury when Dori started to tease him about having a crush on the tattooed barista.

"I do _not_ have a crush on her," he'd snapped, finally. True enough; the girl was very pretty, objectively speaking, but Ori's tastes didn't run to girls. Another thing Dori wouldn't approve of, and thus didn't know.

"Quite right, too," Dori had answered, sniffing. "She's not _our_ kind, really."

Then and there, Ori had sworn to himself to get a tattoo, something big and obvious, to show Dori just what _kind_ Ori was!

But now, staring at a particularly tacky flash image of a skull that was both winged AND on fire, with staring red demon eyes as a bonus, Ori was definitely reconsidering. His internet searches had indicated that Lonely Mountain Ink was one of the best tattoo shops in town, but maybe he needed to do some more research first, or something. Yes, that was it. More research. 

He was starting to work his way back to the door, hoping the blond kid wouldn't notice, when he suddenly realized that the buzzing whine of the tattoo machine had stopped some time ago. Ori looked to the back of the shop in time to see an older man with long dark hair, streaked with grey, coming around the folding screens. As he passed the counter, the blond kid looked up and said, "Back in a month for your next session, right Thorin?"

"That's right, Fili. Last session!" the man, Thorin, answered. "Last session till I start the next piece, that is!" They both laughed, and Thorin clapped the kid hard on the shoulder. "Say hi to your mom for me, huh?"

"Will do, Uncle," Fili said cheerfully.

Ori watched this easy family camaraderie with envy bitter on his tongue, still wavering near the door. The man, Thorin, smiled at him as he left the shop and Ori smiled back reflexively. 

"Hey, Dwalin! You got another one waiting!" Fili shouted.

Ori looked up to see that the tattoo artist, Dwalin, had pushed back the folding screens, revealing his work station. Dwalin looked over and grunted in Fili's direction, then turned his attention back to what he'd been working on. Dwalin had a spray bottle of something Ori assumed was disinfectant in one hand and a wad of paper towel in the other and was busily and meticulously wiping down the chair his client had just vacated and the countertop behind him.

Ori watched him, fascinated. The artist was big and broad, his head shaved bald but his beard full. His gleaming head was covered in tattooed designs, and the tight sleeves of his tee-shirt rode up over his muscular arms to reveal more tattoos. Really, he was _beautiful_. Ori felt his cheeks flush, knowing he was staring and unable to stop himself. 

Finally, the artist straightened up, throwing away his last wad of used paper towel. He turned, pulling his black latex gloves off with a snap and throwing them out as well, and met Ori's eyes across the shop.

"Come on back lad!" Dwalin called, and Ori found his feet obeying without his conscious will directing them. 

Ori almost stumbled as he made his way into the artist's work area, but he managed to turn it into a controlled hop as he settled himself in the large chair. It was almost like a dentist's chair, he thought, but the sparkly red vinyl covering gave it an oddly soda-shop air. 

"So," said Dwalin in a gruff but friendly voice. "What will it be for you?"

Ori stared at him for a long silent moment. Up close, he could see that Dwalin was older than him by ten years, maybe twelve, and his beard showed a few silvery streaks. The tattoos on the man's head were fascinating, not quite tribal but not quite Celtic, either. Ori couldn't quite place them and filed the designs away in his head for later research.

"Lad?" Dwalin prompted gently and Ori startled, flushing. He'd been staring again. 

"Uh...well, I was thinking about...uh...." he trailed off.

Dwalin waited, watching him carefully. Ori knew what he saw: a slightly built young man, pale skinned with a dusting of freckles, crooked nose, $10 hair cut. An oversized nubby brown grandfather sweater, complete with leather elbow patches. Light-colored blue jeans with a crease down the leg, courtesy of Dori's obsessive ironing. Light blue Chucks. Beat-up old leather satchel. Ink on his fingers from an antique fountain pen that leaked but which he still loved and wouldn't give up. A geek, to put it shortly. But when Ori met Dwalin's eyes, he didn't see the judgment or skepticism he expected, nor did he see disapproval. The older man's eyes were...warm, encouraging. 

"Well, I don't know, I guess," Ori said, finally. Honesty seemed best, here, and Dwalin looked like the kind of man who would appreciate it. Ori's kind of man. He jerked his thoughts away from that path and continued. "I saw this girl the other day who had this beautiful tattoo on her arm, all flowers and color, like a painting. Nothing I saw on the walls out there is like that."

"No, it's not," Dwalin agreed. "That stuff is fine, really. My bread and butter, you know. But it's pretty generic. The piece you're talking about sounds like a lot more than flash; probably a custom job. Probably meant a lot to that girl, took a long time."

"Yeah...." Ori said, trailing off. He didn't really know what he wanted anymore, except to keep talking to this man. "Maybe...you could help me figure something out?"

"Of course!" Dwalin agreed. "That's my job!"

He proceeded to ask Ori a string of questions...where did he want the tattoo? How big? Did he want color, or just black ink? Was there a style that appealed? Et cetera, until Ori's head was spinning. He'd answered all the questions as well as he could, but they'd really gotten no closer to narrowing it down to a single design when Dwalin stopped and propped his heavy head on one hand. Ori noticed that the man's hand was tattooed, too, and tried to read it upside down but failed, distracted by Dwalin's deep voice.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Dwalin said, then continued before Ori could answer. "Why do you want a tattoo in the first place? You seem a thoughtful lad, unlikely to rush into something. So why do you want a tattoo when you don't even know what tattoo you want?"

Ori sighed heavily. "I...I don't know. I don't know if I even really want a tattoo, to be honest," he admitted, afraid Dwalin would be angry with him for wasting his time.

"It's a big decision, you know," Dwalin said, his voice not angry at all, but warm and kind. "The laser removal process is really painful, really expensive, and don't even work that well. You have to be sure."

"Yeah," Ori agreed heavily. "It's just....my older brother...and the barista...and he was so awful about it...and...." he trailed off, embarrassed.

"Oh, I know all about older brothers," Dwalin said, with a short laugh. "Family really knows how to push all your buttons, eh?"

"Yeah, that's because they _installed_ most of them," Ori answered bitterly.

To his surprise, Dwalin laughed heartily, slapping his thighs with his hands and rocking in his chair. He found himself laughing along with the older man. It felt good, sharing a laugh with a man like this, a man so different from Ori but so accepting and open.

Finally calming, Dwalin looked at him seriously. "Well, lad, far be it from me to tell you that you shouldn't get a tattoo; I'd be homeless in no time if I talked my clients out of it too often! But I think maybe you should take some time and think about this hard and come back to me if you decide you really do want it. The best tattoos really mean something to you, you know...and getting a tattoo just to piss off your brother isn't a good reason. You'd regret it soon, and then you'd both be unhappy."

"Oh...okay...you're probably right," Ori said slowly. Really, he knew Dwalin was right; being mad at Dori was a really bad reason to get a tattoo. So was trying to impress a hot guy, which was the other driving motivation he was finding in himself right now. He wanted Dwalin to like him and he wanted to stay in Dwalin's company longer, but he was, indeed, a thoughtful lad, and he knew better. He stood to go.

"Hey," Dwalin said, and Ori turned back. "It was nice talking with you. I hope to see you back, lad!"

"Ori," Ori said. "My name is Ori."

Dwalin smiled and stuck out one huge tattooed hand. Ori took it, trying not to wince at the strong grip.

"I...enjoyed talking to you, too," Ori said. "I think I'll be seeing you again."


	2. The Man who Does Not Read

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin, stinging from a comment Balin made, heads to the public library to prove to his brother that he can, in fact, read a damned book once in a while. But what he doesn't expect is that the librarian is none other than Ori, the young man he'd met at his tattoo shop the week before...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to set this AU in Chicago. That has nothing at all to do with the fact that I used to live in Chicago and can thus write intelligently about it, nothing at all. *innocent whistling* Also, the fact that I am a tattooed librarian probably has nothing at all to do with why I liked this prompt so much...nope, clearly not...

Dwalin stood staring at the shelves of library books blankly. He’d started in the new book section, thinking it would be easier to find something to read with a small selection to choose among, but he was finding this impossible. He had never heard of any of these books…hell, he’d never heard of any of these _authors_. And it didn’t help that the last time he’d picked up a book for pleasure had been ten years ago and he didn’t really even know what kind of book he actually wanted…or if he wanted one at all, really. He picked up a book at random and flipped to the inside jacket copy. The words “charming romance” and “small town” popped out at him and he put it back quickly. A fluffy romance novel was not what he wanted, he knew that much. He just needed to find _something_ tolerable to read so he could prove to Balin that he wasn’t some uncultured swine.

Dwalin ground his teeth. This wasn’t working! He thought back to the previous evening. Balin and Dwalin had met up at Balin’s favorite Scottish pub in Chicago, the Green Dragon. They’d eaten bangers and mash—Dwalin wasn’t sure how authentic it really was, but it tasted good, anyway—and had ended their evening sitting over their drinks and chatting idly. Dwalin was sipping at his Laphroaig whiskey…which he only drank when Balin was picking up the tab…while Balin drank Guinness and droned on about how much he hated his department head. Balin was a literature professor at Northwestern and loved to hear himself talk. Somewhere in there, Balin shifted to talking about the latest Pulitzer-winning novel and how much he’d enjoyed it. Dwalin had just stared at him blankly, not really listening.

Finally Balin had paused and then said, “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” and Dwalin had grunted a negative.

“Really, Dwalin! What happened to the sweet little boy I remember who used to beg for just one more book before he’d go to sleep, hmm?” Balin had asked, a teasing note in his voice but a deadly serious look on his face. “You know, the man who does not read has no advantage over the man who _cannot_ read,” he’d added, somewhat sententiously. 

And so here Dwalin was, at the local branch of CPL, a place he hadn’t set foot in the whole time he’d lived in this neighborhood. 

An older woman pushing a book-laden cart stopped beside him. “You look a bit lost, if you don’t mind my saying so. If you need some help finding a book, you might try asking at the Readers’ Services desk. The librarian there is great at finding exactly what you didn’t know you wanted!”

“Uh, thanks,” Dwalin said, slightly taken aback. He wasn’t used to having people approach him in public places; his appearance tended to put people off a bit. “I’ll try that, thanks.”

Dwalin wandered back into the main part of the library, looking for the librarian the woman had mentioned. He spotted a big “Readers’ Services” sign hanging from the ceiling and headed that way. There was another library patron standing at the desk talking to the librarian and Dwalin stopped some distance away and waited. When the man left, finally, Dwalin nearly gasped out loud. The librarian behind the desk was none other than Ori, the lovely young man who’d come into his tattoo shop the previous week!

Dwalin thought about backing away and leaving; as much as he’d wanted to see the young man again, he wasn’t prepared to deal with this today! But just then, Ori looked up and saw him and a smile of heartbreaking beauty spread across the young man’s face. Clearly, he recognized Dwalin in return, and was…happy to see him? Hope leaped in Dwalin’s chest but he quashed it brutally. The lad was too young for him, and probably not interested anyway, graceful thing that he was. He deserved someone less scarred by time.

“Mister Dwalin!” Ori said, standing up to greet him. “What brings you to the public library today? Something I can help you with?”

“Uh, maybe. This woman back there,” he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction he’d come from, “said that you’re good at helping people find books to read?”

“That’s what they pay me for!” Ori agreed, beaming. Dwalin was struck by how much more confident the lad seemed here. Clearly, he was in his element. “So, what are you looking for?”

“Well…I guess I don’t really know,” Dwalin answered.

“Ah, the tables have turned, then!” Ori said. “Now, let me ask _you_ some questions to help narrow down what you want!”

The lad proceeded to ask a string of questions, enough to make Dwalin’s head start to spin. Did Dwalin want a book with a contemporary setting, or historical? United States locale, or international? Would he like a thriller? Mystery? Science fiction or fantasy? Horror? Did he have any favorite authors? Would he prefer something fast-paced, or something that lingered on characters’ thoughts and emotions? Dwalin answered as best he could, but they'd really gotten no closer to narrowing it down to a single title when Ori stopped and looked at him seriously.

“Now, picking out a book to read isn’t as permanent a decision as getting a tattoo,” the young man said with a smile. “But I’m getting the feeling you don’t really want anything in particular. You might not even want a book at all, right? So why are you here, really?”

Dwalin sighed. Thoughtful, perceptive lad indeed. “My older brother’s a literature prof at NWU,” he explained. “He was giving me a hard time about not reading. I used to read all the time when I was younger, but I just…haven’t…for a while. It’s not that I don’t want to read, I suppose, so much as…well, Balin’s the smart one in the family. I can’t really compete, so I just stopped trying.” God, why was he opening up like this to a man he hardly knew? Something about Ori just…put him at ease, though.

“Well, that’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard!” Ori declared. “Enjoying a good book has nothing to do with anything other than enjoying a good book. You shouldn’t let your older brother control what you do like that!”

“Good advice,” Dwalin rumbled, and he saw Ori flush, understanding his point immediately. Ori was guilty of the same thing, in his way, letting his older brother’s opinions sway his own actions so dramatically that he’d almost done something life-altering without really wanting to. 

“Balin, my brother…he mentioned the book that just won the Pulitzer?” Dwalin ventured, trying to smooth over the moment. To his surprise, he saw Ori’s lip curl briefly in an expression very like disgust before the boy’s expression went neutral.

“Um, yes, let me see if we have a copy in,” Ori said, turning his attention to his computer screen.

“No…what? You made a face. What’s wrong with that book?” Dwalin asked.

“Ugh. Okay. I’m not actually supposed to give my own personal opinions of the books, really,” Ori said. “It’s not considered professional, and all that. But since it’s you…well. That author is completely overrated. He’s nothing more than a pretentious old man who thinks…and writes…with his penis.”

Dwalin was surprised into a laugh, which he quickly stifled in deference to the library’s quiet. There was more to this lad than met the eye…much more. It was fascinating. 

“No wonder my brother liked the book, then,” Dwalin said, and watched Ori’s face light up with humor. God, he was gorgeous. “How about this, then? Give me a book. Any book. I don’t care what it’s about, as long as it’s a book _you_ loved.”

Ori smiled. “Another thing we’re not really supposed to do; I’m meant to give you the right book for _you_ without my personal feelings coming into it. But of course, I’d love to do so, if you really want?”

Dwalin nodded. “That’s exactly what I want. Give me a book you loved.”

Ori grinned and popped up, disappearing into the rows of shelving behind his desk. He returned a few moments later with a thick hardcover in his hands and held it out to Dwalin.

“American Gods,” Dwalin read out. “Hey, I think I’ve heard of this Neil Gaiman guy. Didn’t he do a comic book or something?”

“Yeah, the Sandman series, among others,” Ori agreed. “We have those too, if you want them?”

“No, I’ll stick with this for now,” Dwalin said. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure!” Ori said, his face creased in a smile of pure happiness. Dwalin could tell he really meant it, that it really was a pleasure to give Dwalin this book. He looked at the young man for a long moment, weighing his next words carefully.

“ _Oh, fuck it_!” he thought, then opened his mouth. “Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

Ori’s face went red and his mouth dropped open. _Damnit_ , the lad wasn’t interested and he’d just made an ass of himself after all. Just as Dwalin was about to apologize, try to take it back, the lad’s expression changed. He…smiled.

“I would love to, actually,” Ori answered, his eyes sparkling, and Dwalin felt his heart speed up. The woman up front had been right; Ori had just given him exactly what he hadn’t known he wanted.


	3. First Dates and First Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, lots of headcanon for this AU dropped into this chapter...
> 
>  
> 
> Some headcanon that's not fully spelled out here, though, are the ages. I've re-arranged the dwarves' ages to something more approaching book canon. Ori is no longer the youngest...so, Ori is 25. Dori is 35. Nori is 37. Dwalin is 36. Thorin is 40. Kili is 16, and Fili is 18. Dis is 38.

Ori stood on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, breathing deeply to nerve himself up. He'd gone on dates before, but not many, and not terribly successful...and certainly not with men like Dwalin. Actually, Ori just _hoped_ this really was a date; men didn't usually ask each other out to dinner just for friendship's sake, did they? He didn't think so, but he also knew he wasn't the most experienced.

He checked out his wavery reflection in the restaurant window. Nothing in his closet had seemed quite right, so he'd gone out earlier that day and bought a pair of dark wash Levi's with the clever pre-distressing on the legs. The only pair they'd had in his waist size was too long in the leg, so he'd cuffed them up and hoped it looked like a deliberate style choice rather than making him look like a child waiting to grow into his new pants. Over the jeans, he was wearing a thin vintage sweater in a dark red, almost maroon color; the loose fit helped camouflage the softness around his middle. He'd swapped out his usual blue Chucks for scuffed brown penny loafers that he'd owned for years, in an attempt to dress up the look a bit without going too far. He was aiming at "thrift store hipster" and just hoped he hadn't landed on "wearing grandpa's hand-me-downs." He ran one hand through his hair to muss it in what he hoped was an artful fashion, then squared his thin shoulders and pushed the door open.

Dwalin sat at a table not far from the front window, watching the street and waiting for Ori to arrive. He'd gotten here early so he could secure a good table, but he wasn't too sure about this place. Balin said a friend of his had eaten here and enjoyed it, and Dwalin had leaped on the idea, knowing he couldn't possibly take Ori to any of the places Dwalin usually frequented. But the restaurant, Bilbo's Pantry, was one of those new pretentious little bistros that advertized as serving only local, organic food. The motto "Real food for real hunger!" was splashed on the fronts of the menus and all the little napkins. The walls were bedecked with shelves full of rustic-looking stoneware plates and teapots, copper pots and iron skillets, wooden-handled ladles, dried herbs, and, oddly, a few bits of what seemed to be farming equipment. He was pretty sure he'd spotted a hand-scythe on one wall, and there was a butter churn in the corner. Definitely not the sort of place Dwalin usually went. But for Ori, he'd make an exception.

As he tapped his thick fingers nervously against the laminated menu in front of him, he spotted Ori out on the sidewalk. The young man stopped before he reached the door, lingering on the sidewalk. Dwalin froze, hoping Ori wasn't reconsidering this evening...and also hoping Ori couldn't see him through the reflections on the window! Dwalin would be caught staring if he could. But he couldn't tear his eyes away. He watched, smiling to himself, as Ori preened slightly and re-arranged his hair, then headed for the door. Dwalin quickly dropped his eyes so the lad wouldn't know he'd been watching.

Inside, Ori paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust. The restaurant was dimly lit, but it was still brighter than the Chicago evening from which he'd come. He blinked a few times and began to take in the decor. Seemed like a nice little place, really. He hadn't been sure what to expect from the address, but the Wicker Park neighborhood had been going through a steady process of gentrification in the last few years, following nearby Buck Town kicking and screaming into yuppie-dom, and this place was par for the course. Ori couldn't help but miss the weird little hole-in-the-walls, though. He'd spent a lot of time in one particular coffee shop while he was in college and every time he walked by and saw the bank branch that had replaced it, his heart hurt a little.

When he spotted Dwalin already seated at a table near the front window, Ori's heart sped up. Dwalin was wearing a dark green button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular, veined forearms. Warm colored light from the stained-glass fixture hanging over the table gleamed off the rows of steel piercings in the big man's ears, turning them into little glittering treasures. In that light, the tattoos on his shaved scalp were stark and striking, primal and beautiful. Dear god, what did a man who looked like that see in someone like Ori? Then Dwalin looked up and smiled at him and Ori's knees felt weak.

Dwalin looked up to find Ori looking his direction and he smiled broadly. The lad looked a bit flustered and Dwalin tried to dial it back. Bad for the tough-guy image anyway, smiling too much. He stood and held out a hand to the approaching man. When Ori shyly slipped his slim warm fingers into Dwalin's and smiled up at him, he felt his knees weaken and sat back down quickly before it was obvious. Then he realized he should have pulled out Ori's chair and popped back up just as Ori pulled his own chair out and seated himself. Dwalin sank awkwardly back into his seat, cursing inwardly.

Ori noticed Dwalin's discomfiture and smiled to himself. Somehow, the fact that the older man was visibly nervous made Ori feel more confident. He flipped open his menu.

"I've never been here before. Have you?" Ori asked. "Seems like a nice little place. Wasn't sure what to expect, really."

"Uh, no. Friend of my brother's likes it, apparently. Gandalf something-or-other. He's a founding member of the Istari Foundation, so this kind of thing is right up his alley," Dwalin said.

Ori whistled. The Istari Foundation was an up-and-coming local nonprofit with a strongly environmentalist bent. He'd heard that some of the members were fairly radical, actually, if not downright weird.

Dwalin rumbled a laugh. "Yeah, I know what you're thinking. He's pretty down-to-earth, though. One of the more reasonable members of the Istari...."

Dwalin opened his menu, too, and ran his eyes along it. It was relatively short, just a few appetizers, a few entrees, several salads and soups, and two desserts. Every menu item proudly listed the foods' provenance, farms in Michigan and Wisconsin and southern Illinois. Dwalin suppressed a groan. At least it wasn't a vegetarian place; the garlic roasted chicken and steamed spring asparagus with fresh creamery butter sounded like it might actually be pretty tasty.

"Oh, good!" Ori said with a little laugh, looking up from his own menu. "I was half-afraid this was going to be a vegetarian place! The sirloin with maple-glazed roasted carrots sounds great! Too bad they don't seem to serve fries, though." 

Ori grinned and Dwalin grinned back. This was going surprisingly well; they were far more alike than appearances would suggest.

***

Ori idly pushed a chunk of carrot around on his plate with his fork. Conversation through dinner had been surprisingly strong, but now that they had nearly finished their meals, he feared for that awkward stage...the "Do we linger over dessert and chat? Do we go someplace else? Or is the date over?" phase of the night. And if the date was over, would there be a kiss? Ori very much hoped there would be, but all the same, he wasn't ready for the night to end.

"So," Ori ventured, trying to keep the conversation flowing without pause. "Something I've been wondering! Lonely Mountain Ink. Not sure if you've noticed, but there aren't a lot of mountains...or even hills, for that matter...in Chicago!"

Dwalin laughed. "True enough. That's where we're from originally, my kin and me. Lonely Mountain, Tennessee."

"Tennessee?" Ori asked, taken aback. "But you don't have a Southern accent!"

"No, no. I only lived there till I was 10 and I lost the accent pretty quick," Dwalin explained. "We still love the place, though...well, what it used to be, more than what it is now. My grandfather was a coal miner, and my father after him. A lot of people in the area were, of course. It was a decent living and a hard life, but the mountains are so beautiful and people are kind and it was home, you understand? But then this big multi-national, Smaug Coal Inc., bought up all the mines and started strip-mining, blasting great big holes in the sides of the mountain and clear-cutting the old-growth pines to make room for their machines. And of course, Smaug brought in all its own employees and laid off all the locals. The place was...destroyed. So we left. A lot of us left. My parents, my uncles and cousins...the whole damn Durinsen clan. And we ended up in Chicago. Been here ever since! But I still miss those mountains sometimes. It was a great place for a child to grow up. I used to pretend there were elves living in the woods...."

"Wow...how terrible!" Ori exclaimed. "To lose your home like that? And _strip mining_...what a horror. Someone should put a stop to that! It destroys entire ecosystems, not to mention what happened to your town!" 

"Yes," Dwalin agreed. "That's why we have connections to the Istari Foundation, actually. Gandalf particularly has a thing about mountains and strip mines. Smaug Inc and SauronCorp are his archenemies, to hear him talk about it. Not sure what we can do about it at this point, but my brother and our cousin Thorin are trying to figure something out. They're a couple years older than I am, were even more attached to the place."

Ori took a sip of his red wine. It was from some vineyard in Michigan, apparently, and was pretty good. He was sure Dori wouldn't approve of it, though; he was more than a bit of a wine snob. "Well, I wish them all the luck in the world, really. And if there's any way I can help...." Ori offered, not really believing he had much to offer but finding himself genuinely invested, somehow.

Dwalin smiled broadly. The lad was so earnest. It was adorable, really. "Tell me about your family, Ori. You've mentioned your brother...?"

Ori's smile faded and Dwalin's heart sank. What had he said? 

Ori answered slowly, not sure how much to share. But Dwalin had opened up to him about his childhood home, so Ori decided to go for it. "Well...I'm actually an orphan. My parents were both killed in a car accident on the Dan Ryan when I was 6. I have two older brothers, actually...Dori is 10 years older than me and Nori is 12 years older. Nori was 18 and was given custody of us...how he managed to swing that one, I'll never know. He's not the most...uh...respectable. But Dori's really the one who raised me. I owe him a lot, and Nori, too, despite it all. But _god_ does Dori mother-hen me, to this day! I still live with him, actually; my parents had a nice little house in Lincoln Park and left us a good amount of money, so between that and the money Nori somehow managed to acquire for us, god knows how, we were able to live pretty well. Dori and I even managed to go to college. He's a curator at the Art Institute, and you know I'm a librarian. Nori is...well, Nori. He has a new get-rich-quick scheme every time I see him, which is seldom."

"Oh, family," Dwalin said, shaking his head in amused sympathy. "I love my family but they do drive me crazy sometimes. You met Fili...he works at the shop for me. His little brother Kili is agitating for a job there, too, but the child is too scatter-brained. He'd somehow manage to stab himself on my tattoo needles, I know it. They're my cousin Dis's boys. She's done a great job raising them as a single mom, though, I have to say. Her brother Thorin helps a lot, though."

A chipper voice interrupted them. "Hello, gentlemen! I hope you've been enjoying your dinner?"

They looked up to see a small middle-aged man with a mess of tousled chestnut curls beaming at them. He was wearing an extremely boho patchwork velvet shirt under an apron emblazoned with the restaurant's logo. His nametag read "Bilbo." 

"Very much so, thank you," Ori piped up. "Bilbo? The Bilbo, I presume?"

"That's me!" he agreed amiably. "Very glad you enjoyed your meals! Can I get you anything else this evening? A cup of tea? Some espresso? Our desserts are quite nice today, if I do say so myself!"

Ori looked across the table at Dwalin. The big man saw the question in his eyes and smiled. He wasn't ready for the evening to end, either. "I noticed you had home-baked chocolate chip cookies on the menu? I think a plate of those to share, and coffee, black for me."

"Sounds perfect," Ori agreed, heart leaping.

***

Ori leaned against the black metal fence in front of his Lincoln Park home. Dwalin had insisted on seeing him home and Ori had readily agreed. Anything to stay in his company just a little bit longer. But now the evening had to end. There was no way he could invite Dwalin in with Dori lurking somewhere inside. In fact...Ori's heart dropped into his stomach. If Dori looked out the window and saw them together, Ori would have some very fast talking to do, and Dori would see right through it in the end, anyway. He wasn't sure he was ready to come out to his brother yet, and honestly had no idea how Dori would take the news. But he feared it wouldn't be pretty. But still...he very much hoped Dwalin would kiss him.

Dwalin looked down at the lovely young man lounging against the fence. He wanted very much to kiss him, but he saw Ori shift on his feet and cast a nervous glance at the darkened windows of his home. And what a home it was, too! Dwalin had never been into one of these houses, but the few times he'd walked through residential Lincoln Park he'd assumed the buildings were subdivided into apartments. But Dori and Ori...and the mysterious Nori, he assumed...owned this whole building. What could Dwalin possibly have to offer someone with Ori's background? He stepped away from the young man, giving him a bit more personal space.

Dwalin stepped away from him and Ori felt disappointment well in his throat. He'd thought the evening had gone so well; was this the end? Wouldn't he even get a kiss goodnight? He straightened up and moved away from the fence, no longer even thinking about whether Dori was peeping through a front window.

Ori moved in close and looked up at Dwalin, suddenly suffused with heat at the other's nearness. Ori tilted his head up to meet the larger man's eyes and said, quietly, "I had a wonderful evening...."

Dwalin couldn't help it; he lifted one hand to run his thick fingers through Ori's pale hair. The young man closed his eyes and leaned into the gesture. Dwalin let himself sway closer, feeling the heat of the young man's body and then, gently, he brushed his lips against Ori's.

When Ori felt Dwalin moving closer, an excitement like he'd never felt before ran up and down his spine and he felt the small hairs at the nape of his neck prickle as his skin broke out in goose bumps. Then Dwalin's lips were on his and the feeling abruptly concentrated itself in his gut, a heat that spread like liquor through his muscles. He kissed back, lifting his hands to Dwalin's chest and shoulders. The larger man's fingers tightened in his hair and he brought his free hand to Ori's waist and pulled him in close.

When they broke at last, Ori was breathless and trembling. Dwalin rumbled a low laugh that sent fresh chills across Ori's skin and he smiled, feeling giddy and drunk. 

Dwalin looked at the young man and saw the glaze across his eyes. Good to know he hadn't lost it, at least! Though truth to tell, he was feeling a bit punch-drunk and lust-fogged himself. But he found himself unwilling to rush this; he had a feeling that pushing too hard too soon would gain little and lose much. So he simply said, "I had a wonderful evening, too. And I...would like to see you again?"

"I'd like that very much, Dwalin," Ori stammered.

They stared at each other silently for a long, tongue-tied moment. "Well. Good night," Ori said at last, pulling away and putting one small hand on the gate handle.

Dwalin watched as Ori made his way up the short walk and unlocked the door. When he opened it, Ori looked back and Dwalin lifted one hand in a wave. Ori waved back and then turned and went inside.

Ori sagged against the closed door, breathing deeply, knowing he was grinning like a fool and unable to help himself. He just hoped Dwalin called soon; this feeling was too good to lose.

Dwalin walked back toward the El stop, feeling a fresh spring in his step. Ori made him feel younger and stronger than he had in years. It was a good feeling, and he just hoped he wouldn't fuck anything up. This was too good to lose.


	4. The Places that You Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another date, a little bit further along the line...things are starting to move along nicely...but they still need to learn to talk to each other a bit better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, anyone familiar with Chicago restaurants will know I'm basing Blue Mountain Burgers VERY loosely on Kuma's Corner.
> 
> And the brothers 'Ur appear...
> 
> Also, I was going to have these two get it on for the first time in this chapter but it ended up too long, so that's the next chapter now. Sorry!

Ori stood on the sidewalk outside the restaurant Dwalin had suggested for this evening’s date. They’d gone out three more times since that first dinner, and by now, Ori was wise to Dwalin’s trick of showing up fifteen minutes early. So tonight, he himself had shown up thirty minutes early. And he found that what he’d feared was, in fact, the case. The restaurant in front of him, The Shire, was another cute yuppie-ish bistro. _All_ the restaurants had been cute yuppie-ish bistros. Ori knew that this kind of place couldn’t be what Dwalin really wanted, and he didn’t want it, either. 

He sighed, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his oversized brown leather bomber jacket. It was one of those typical late-September Chicago days—crystalline blue skies and 60-something degrees during the day, but as soon as the sun had started to go down, the wind had kicked up and the temperature had dropped and now the air tasted like fall, like dry leaves and smoke and cold. Ori’s favorite season, and a good excuse to pull the jacket out of his closet. Nori had given it to him years ago and even though he’d never really grown into it, Ori lived in the thing in the colder months, relishing the mingled smell of tobacco and cologne that he imagined still clung to the material. Ori knew he had a bit of a hero-worship thing going with Nori, and he just couldn’t bring himself to care, despite his brother’s more questionable life decisions.

Finally, he spotted Dwalin’s unmistakable broad figure coming around the corner and heading his way. Ori straightened up and took his hands from his pockets, smiling.

Dwalin almost missed a step when he saw Ori waiting for him in front of the restaurant. He preferred to be the first one to any meeting, when possible, so he could scout out the lay of the land and get comfortable with the situation. He was accustomed to being at least nominally in control, when possible. Ori being here first threw him off. Why was he early? Was it intentional, or just happenstance? And why was he waiting outside in the chill wind, instead of having gone in to take a table? It unsettled Dwalin, and he didn't like it. 

He groaned inwardly when he got closer and could see the restaurant. Another fucking yuppie place. He’d been afraid of that, but he wasn’t really surprised. That’s what he got for asking Balin and Gandalf for restaurant recommendations, he supposed. He couldn't have asked Thorin; anyplace Thorin might have suggested would be someplace Dwalin already knew about, he was sure, and any place Dwalin knew about would be a place he couldn’t take Ori. So, Balin and Gandalf had become his go-to advisors on the subject.

“Hi!” Ori piped when they were close enough. He moved in to hug Dwalin and the bigger man hugged back briefly, then stepped away.

“Hello,” Dwalin said. “You’re early.”

“Yeah,” Ori agreed, but didn’t explain himself. 

Dwalin looked at him silently for a long moment, then shrugged and turned toward the door. “Ready to go in, then?”

“No,” said Ori.

Dwalin stopped in place, not sure he’d heard right. “No?” he asked.

“No,” Ori agreed.

“May I ask why not?” Dwalin said, his heart sinking. Maybe that’s why Ori was here early; maybe Ori wanted to stop seeing him and showed up early so he could let Dwalin down easy before the date even started. He crossed his arms over his chest tightly, almost hugging himself as he braced for what Ori would say next.

“You sure can!” Ori answered. He was feeling strangely confident right now; Dwalin made him feel strong. He knew what he wanted, and he knew Dwalin could give it to him. “I don’t want to go in because I don’t want to eat here. Have you been here before?”

“Uh, no…” Dwalin admitted, mystified. At least it didn’t seem like the lad was breaking up with him.

“Thought not. Just like you haven’t been to the last few places, either. Balin or Gandalf have, not you. If I had to guess, I'd say...Gandalf suggested this one. Has his sort of feel, from what you've told me. But regardless...this isn’t _your_ kind of restaurant, Dwalin, and I don’t want to go someplace that you don’t want to be,” Ori explained, placing one slim hand on Dwalin’s forearm, feeling the hard muscles flex under his leather biker coat. A slow heat started up in his belly and he tried to hide it, just smiling up at the taller man.

Dwalin blinked a few times, processing. “Oh, I just…I wanted to take you nice places, Ori! Someone like you…should have nice things, and go nice places….”

Ori fluttered his free hand dismissively. “Oh, _nice_. Such a loaded word. Means different things to different people, doesn’t it? Dwalin. I…I really enjoy…being with you. But if we’re going to get to know each other as well as I think we both want to, then I…I want to see your real life. I want to go the places that you like, not the places you think I _should_ like. Does that make sense?”

Dwalin grinned, a strange warmth fluttering in his throat. “Makes perfect sense to me.” He bent and pressed a kiss to the center of Ori’s forehead.

“So,” Ori said. “Take me to _your_ favorite places!”

***

The sign painted on the glass door read "Blue Mountain Burgers" over a stylized image of a bear and a mountain peak. Ori'd heard of the place, of course; it was famous in Chicago. But he'd never been in. This was more like it!

Dwalin pushed the door open and held it for him and Ori walked in, blinking to let his eyes adjust. The restaurant was quite small, given its large reputation, and extremely noisy, almost seeming to pulse with sound. Loud punk rock music was playing, and besides which, the place was packed to the gills with customers. It didn't seem that there were any free tables. But Dwalin walked in behind him confidently and made a line toward a table in the corner, tucked between a dog-leg of the bar and the broad curtain-draped front window. An older man sat there already, but he stood when he saw Dwalin approaching.

"Bifur, my friend!" Dwalin boomed, and the two exchanged a complicated handshake.

Bifur started talking, but it was in some language Ori didn't know. Dwalin nodded and smiled along and Ori just stared. The man, Bifur, was quite a sight...his long hair had likely been stark black when he was younger, but now it was streaked through with white and wild around his head. His beard was the same, bushy and as much white as it was black. There was a long, jagged-looking purple scar across his forehead.

Ori startled when a hand was clapped on his shoulder. Another man, his dark hair pulled into two Willie Nelson braids, one behind each ear, was standing beside him suddenly. The man grinned, his eyes crinkling into deeply-graven smile-lines. "You must be Ori! Dwalin's told us all about you!" he said. "Name's Bofur. That's my cousin Bifur Dwalin's talking to...or being talked at by, really."

"Uh, nice to meet you!" Ori replied. Bofur had heard about him? A warmth suffused him at the thought. But why hadn't Dwalin ever told Ori about Bofur and Bifur? In fact, Ori realized, Dwalin had really only talked about his brother and cousins before, never about friends. It was strange, but it was a mystery for another time.

"Oh, pleasure's all mine, really!" Bofur responded. "When Dwalin texted us to say he was coming over and bringing you along, we reserved a table soon's one opened up."

"Oh...so you work here?" Ori asked.

"Work here?" Bofur said. "Well, I suppose you could say we work here, at that! My brother Bombur owns the place! Still does most of the cooking. Bifur and I just help out as we can, you know. Family business and that. But Bifur's little problem means he can't do much on the customer side of things, of course."

Ori shot him a questioning look. 

"Oh, you didn't know?" Bofur asked, sounding surprised. "Thought Dwalin would have mentioned. Bifur was in the Army; caught some shrapnel to the head in Desert Storm. He's still sharp as ever...well, _most_ of the time, anyway...but it damaged the language centers of his brain. He can understand English well as ever, but can't quite find the words for it himself. All he can speak now is the Polish he learned as a boy. Rather restricts his interactions with our clientele, though not actually as much as you might think."

Ori nodded; Chicago had a very large Polish population. "Oh! I understand! I...I'm sure Dwalin must have mentioned; I probably forgot," he said, lamely. 

"Oh, sure!" Bofur agreed amiably. "Now, let's get you settled in." He shooed Bifur away from the table and made a show of taking Ori's and Dwalin's coats, hanging them on a nearby rack. He returned with two menus, laying them out in front of the pair with a flourish.

Dwalin laughed heartily. "So helpful you are! Just angling for a good tip, I know!"

Bofur swept them a mocking bow. "At your service!" he crowed when he straightened back up. "I'll just go get you boys a pitcher of something alcoholic, shall I?" he said, and danced off without waiting for an answer, dragging his cousin along behind him.

Ori and Dwalin looked at each other across the table.

"I like your friends. Bofur said you'd told him all about me. Only good things, I hope," Ori said, leaving unsaid that while Bofur had heard about Ori, Ori had heard nothing about him or his cousin and brother before.

Dwalin blinked slowly, considering. He heard the question Ori hadn't asked, and he wasn't sure how to answer it. "Of course, of course! Only good things," he managed. "So, have you ever been here before?" he asked, trying to shift the conversation away.

Ori gazed at him silently for a moment. Clearly, Dwalin didn't want to talk about it. He took pity on the big man and let it drop...for now. He flipped open his menu. "No, but I've heard good things! Supposedly the garlic fries are the best in the world."

"Oh, that's the truth! Most people work their way through the menu one burger at a time and settle on a favorite," Dwalin said. "I recommend the Blue Mountain Burger since it's your first time."

Ori scanned down the menu till he found the Blue Mountain Burger. Bleu cheese, fried onions, bacon, and Buffalo sauce on a pretzel bun. "Wow. That sounds...fucking amazing," he said, trying not to blush when he swore. Dori didn't approve of language like that, but _fuck it_ , Dori wasn't here! "What's your favorite?"

"Dwalin here always orders the Buzzcocks burger, extra jalapenos, easy on the mayo," Bofur interjected as he returned, plunking a large pitcher of beer and two frosted mugs on the table.

Ori looked back at the menu. He saw now that all of the burgers, with the exception of the Blue Mountain Burger, were named for punk bands. The Buzzcocks burger had deep-fried jalapenos, chipotle mayonnaise, pepper jack cheese, and avocado. "That sounds good, too!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, do we have a newbie?" Bofur asked, a twinkle in his eye. "We'll have to make sure he has a good time, then!"

Bofur proved as good as his word. Their pitcher never ran dry and the huge basket of garlic fries was replenished almost as soon as the greasy paper liner was revealed. Ori's Blue Mountain Burger was huge and greasy and every bit as good as he'd thought and he'd tried a bite of Dwalin's, which was also phenomenal. 

By the time Bofur came back over to see if they wanted anything else and bring them their bill, Ori was full, happy, and not a little bit tipsy. He was feeling warm and happy and comfortable. This was the kind of evening he'd wanted all along, and he said as much, sure his face was glowing.

Bofur laughed merrily. "Oh, Dwalin! I like him! You'd better hold on tight or I might just steal him from you!"

Dwalin made a show of growling menacingly before cracking a grin. Ori leaned across the table and wiped a drop of mayo out of Dwalin's beard. "You couldn't steal me, Bofur, sorry. I like this big ass too much!" he crowed happily and was surprised to see Dwalin's cheeks actually redden a touch.

"Oh ho HO!" Bofur laughed, slapping Dwalin hard on the back. "I know when I'm beat! But if you ever change your mind..." He leered mischievously at Ori and Ori nearly choked on his laughter.

***  
Outside on the sidewalk, Ori reeled on his feet, turning a wide, exuberant circle with his arms flung out. He felt drunk on the cool night air and the lingering delight of an evening of good food and good conversation in a place that felt right, for once. And the beer. He was probably drunk on the beer as much as anything else.

Dwalin laughed to see the smaller man fairly dancing in place, then reached out quickly when Ori stumbled and caught him. Ori sagged against him, laughing. Dwalin tightened his arms around the young man, not so much holding him up as holding their bodies together. Ori was hot and the breeze was cold and caught between the two extremes, Dwalin felt feverish, his skin oversensitive and his body heavy with the lust beginning to pool at the base of his spine.

Ori looked up at him, his expression beguiling and adorable at once. "I don't want the evening to end," Ori said, quietly.

"I don't either," Dwalin admitted in a low rasp, beginning to breath hard. He hadn't wanted to bring Ori here, to someplace so loud and raucous and _low_ , but it hadn't been a mistake after all, it seemed. Ori was happy and glowing and the evening had been the most fun they'd had yet. He wanted to take Ori home with him, to strip him of his latest ridiculous sweater and touch the smooth white chest he knew must lie beneath it. They'd gone out four times now, and had done nothing more than kiss at the end of each night, and Dwalin's desire had built to a nearly unbearable pressure inside him.

"It doesn't have to," Ori said, shifting against Dwalin and bringing one of his small hands around to cup the larger man's ass. "Take me home with you."

Dwalin groaned low in his throat at the touch. "You're drunk, Ori. I can't be taking advantage of you like that," he managed to protest.

Ori laughed and wriggled against him. "You won't be. I want this...wanted it all along. I got dressed this evening knowing that you'd be undressing me, if I had anything to say about it," he said, the alcohol making his tongue uncharacteristically bold.

"You're...you're certain?" Dwalin asked, swallowing hard against the knot of excitement in his throat.

"I am," Ori said, stretching up and kissing Dwalin lightly. He smelled like beer and garlic and grease and nothing had ever smelled so enticing to Dwalin before. "Take me home with you, Dwalin. Please?"

With a low growl, Dwalin scooped Ori up in his arms. The younger man whooped delightedly, and Dwalin took off down the sidewalk at a trot, heading for the closest El station.


	5. More to Share

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times, at last!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets relatively explicit, but the first five or six paragraphs aren't at all. So if you don't want to read smuttiness, you can read those and then stop...if you DO want to read smuttiness, enjoy!

Dwalin’s apartment was in the Lakeview East neighborhood, just a little outside the little sub-region known as Boystown—Chicago’s gay district. His building was on a relatively quiet side street, tucked away from the wild main drag of Halsted Street with its rainbow-striped pillars, organic groceries, martini bars, and shops selling sex toys and leather.

Dwalin was almost embarrassed to live in this neighborhood at his age, but he’d been in the same one-bedroom apartment for ten years now and he was comfortable there. And it could not be denied that he felt at home in the neighborhood, too, despite the fact that he hadn’t gone out dancing in a gay club since before he’d moved to the area. But Chicago was a relatively liberal city…at least the neighborhoods he frequented were…but in Boystown, he could walk down the street hand-in-hand with another man and know that the chances of having homophobic venom spewed at him were relatively low. He could see other couples walking together without fear, too, and that was always a good feeling. And if sometimes a drunken belligerent Cubs fan strayed at little too far east of the nearby Wrigleyville neighborhood and started shit, Dwalin was big enough and looked don’t fuck with me enough to deal with it most of the time. The place wasn’t a perfect paradise, by any means, but it was a start.

As they walked up Halsted toward his building, Dwalin slipped his hand into Ori’s. The smaller man stiffened slightly, then relaxed, curling his fingers around Dwalin’s. Clearly, Ori was not accustomed to such open displays of affection. Dwalin hoped to change that; Ori needed to learn to accept himself.

Ori looked around him with something approached awe as they walked through Boystown. He’d been to the neighborhood before, of course, but only briefly and never in the company of a…a boyfriend. Could he call Dwalin his boyfriend? They hadn’t really talked about such things yet. But still. In the company of another man whom he’d kissed and with whom he’d soon be doing more than kissing…Ori’s mind shied away from that. The chill evening air and the walk had cleared his mind of the pleasant buzz he’d worked up and he was feeling downright mortified at the way he’d basically thrown himself at Dwalin, demanding to be taken home with him. Never in his life had Ori been so…so _brazen_. He blushed just thinking about it.

But Boystown! Boystown was wonderful! Little shops selling all manner of things! There was a toyshop right next door to a SEXtoy shop; there was a little teashop though whose window he could see rows of glass jars filled with the dried leaves and herbs; there were bars and dance clubs and interesting little restaurants. And everywhere there were rainbows and pink triangles, images of the Mars symbol interlocked with another Mars symbol and the Venus symbol paired with a Venus symbol. 

When Dwalin took his hand, Ori was startled. They’d shared kisses on secluded streets before, but seldom had they shown affection openly in a place so crowded. But as Ori looked around, he saw that not a single person on the street looked askance at them. In fact, now that he was paying attention, he saw men holding the hands of men, and watched a woman tenderly push a lock of hair away from the eyes of another woman. Not even the straight couples, and there were a lot of them, too, even so much as glanced their way. No one cared. No one even noticed, really. He felt…free. Ori smiled and tightened his fingers around Dwalin’s.

***

Ori stood in the living room looking around while Dwalin hung up their coats. The apartment wasn’t large, but it was warm and comfortable, even cozy, with furnishings that were masculine and inviting. A large leather sofa took up much of the room and looked deep and snug, and the rest of the furniture was made up of comfortably mismatched wooden pieces, most scratched or dented but somehow looking lived-in rather than shabby. The floor was that lovely old hardwood you find in some old Chicago buildings, pitted and scarred but buffed to a warm glow, and Dwalin had scattered rust and ochre and saffron patterned rugs around the high-traffic areas. Despite Dwalin’s comments that he did not read, there was a small bookshelf on one wall and Ori itched to go over and peruse the titles but he refrained, not wanting to seem rude. A large bay window looked out over the street and the sill was lined with colorful ceramic planters overflowing with greenery. Another leather piece, this one an armchair with a nubbly green blanket tossed over the back, sat by the window and Ori could imagine curling up in it to read in the early morning sunlight, with Dwalin making coffee and bacon in the kitchen, the delicious smells almost enough to entice him away from his book.

Dwalin interrupted his little daydream then, walking up behind him and sliding his big hands around to cup Ori’s chest and stomach, pulling their bodies together. Dwalin bent and pressed a kiss to the nape of Ori’s neck and Ori felt his skin rise up in chillbumps, a tremor shuddering through his whole body. He managed to wriggle and twist in the circle of Dwalin’s arms until he was facing the taller man, their chests pressed together. With a stab of mingled shock and desire, Ori felt Dwalin’s erection pressing against his stomach in a hard hot line. 

“I really like your place,” Ori gasped out, inanely.

“Would you like to see the bedroom?” Dwalin growled through a feral grin.

“Oh, yes, that would be lovely!” Ori replied, using all his willpower to keep from giggling uncontrollably.

Dwalin started walking backwards without releasing his hold on Ori; the smaller man stumbled after him. It was so silly and fun that he lost control and started giggling as he tried to keep up, laughing even harder when Dwalin misjudged his aim and banged one shoulder against the doorframe on the way into the bedroom. Even Dwalin was grinning and chuckling, though, so Ori didn’t think he minded much.

The lights were off in the bedroom and Ori couldn’t see much at first. The streetlights outside bled a blue glow through the windows that washed all colors to monochrome. Dwalin had stopped when the backs of his legs hit the edge of his mattress and was just staring down at Ori now, a strange look on his face.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” the bigger man said at last, and Ori was grateful that the dim light would help hide his blush. He couldn’t help but drop his eyes, though, and Dwalin noticed that. 

“No, I mean it. I’m going to try and prove it to you, too,” Dwalin insisted, and Ori looked back up at him, smiling. It really sounded like Dwalin meant it, too. Ori nearly believed him already.

And then Dwalin was slipping his hands under the bottom hem of Ori’s sweater, pulling it up and scraping his blunt nails along the skin of Ori’s back as he did and raising a trail of gooseflesh. Ori wriggled with him, helping as Dwalin pulled the sweater over his head and then stood shivering in place as Dwalin dropped his hands to the button of Ori’s jeans. And just like that, faster than he could have believed, Ori found himself standing in another man’s bedroom in nothing but his boxer shorts. He started trembling; this was really happening and he wanted it but he was terrified, too. What if he wasn’t good? What if he did something wrong?

Dwalin ran his eyes over Ori’s revealed body. His chest was smooth and nearly hairless, skin like milk in the blue evening light. His arms were thin and graceful, his legs as well. His collarbones stood out sharply and Dwalin thought he’d never seen anything as lovely as the shadows cast in their hollows. The young man was beautiful, and completely unaware of it, blind to the effect he had on Dwalin. Then suddenly, Dwalin realized that Ori was shaking…trembling, really…and Dwalin did not think it was from cold.

“Ori?” he asked, as gently as he could. “Are you all right? If you don’t want this, I can wait. I will wait for you until you’re ready.”

“N-no, I do,” Ori stammered. “It’s just…just…” His voice trailed off miserably.

Dwalin understood, suddenly. “Ori, have you ever…are you a virgin?”

Ori just nodded silently, clearly not trusting himself to speak. 

Dwalin let out a gusty breath. “Oh, my dear…” Very gently, he scooped Ori into his arms and laid him out across the bed. “Right back.”

Dwalin stepped away and stripped down to skin, laying his clothes over the back of a chair. He returned and slowly lay down beside Ori. He saw the younger man’s eyes go wide at his nudity and he just smiled. “We’re going to take this slow, Ori,” he said. “I’m going to lay here beside you and I want you to feel free to do…whatever you want. Kiss me. Touch me. Or just lay there. Whatever you want. Ok?” Ori nodded slowly, wide eyes still fixed on Dwalin’s body.

Ori swallowed hard. Dwalin was beautiful, his arms and chest heavily muscled, his stomach flat and not yet going to fat as happened when some burly men aged. A thick thatch of hair spread across his chest and down across his stomach, leading to…Ori jerked his eyes up, not yet ready to confront _that_ area. Instead, he focused on the ink that covered nearly every inch of exposed skin on Dwalin’s arms and chest and stomach. 

He reached out tentatively, and traced the black lines on Dwalin’s chest with a light fingertip. The big man shivered delicately but didn’t move otherwise.

“Tell me,” Ori started to say, then stopped, licking his lips to moisten them. “Tell me about your tattoos.”

“The ones you’re touching are Huginn and Muninn, thought and memory…Odin’s ravens from Norse myth,” Dwalin said after a moment. “Stylized of course. I wanted them to look like old Viking beast art.”

Now that Dwalin said so, Ori could see the bird shapes within the swirling, spiraling lines. He brought his hand to Dwalin’s right arm. “And this?” he asked, lightly trailing his fingers along the lines, pressing close to Dwalin’s body to see the fine details.

“The Fenris wolf, son of Loki, fated to kill Odin during Ragnarok,” Dwalin said, a strange hitch in his voice, his breathing harsh.

Ori was beginning to see a pattern. He let his fingers drift back across Dwalin’s chest, toying briefly with the thick hair there, and then straying lower to circle the sinuous, elaborate piece that looped across Dwalin’s stomach. “And this?” Ori asked, his voice going hoarse.

“Jörmungandr, the Midgard serpent. Another child of Loki. The snake that…that circles the world,” Dwalin gasped out. The big man was holding himself perfectly still but Ori could see tension writ in every line of his body.

Feeling greatly daring, a strange heat pooling in his gut, Ori dropped his hand still lower, trailing his fingertips down Dwalin’s thigh. The man’s body jerked once, convulsively, and then stilled again. “And this?” Ori whispered. 

“Mjölnir, Thor’s hammer,” Dwalin managed, gasping.

Then, lightly, tentatively, Ori let his hand stray to the one place he’d barely even let himself look so far. Dwalin’s erection was hard and hot under his cool fingers and he felt a stab of need pulse through him, his own penis beginning to respond, trapped inside his boxers though it still was. 

Dwalin twitched and moaned at his touch and Ori was greatly encouraged. He ran his fingertips up and down the length of the other man, exploring and experimenting. He’d touched himself before, of course, and he was fascinated by both the similarities and the differences between them. He tried a touch he knew he himself enjoyed, using the firm pressure of his fingers to pull the hood up over the glans and then stroking back down. Dwalin bucked his hips with a sharp intake of breath and Ori smiled to himself, enjoying the sensation of making the big man lose control. A pearly drop of pre-ejaculate appeared and Ori smeared his thumb over it, spreading the moistness across the sensitive head. He continued to play, varying speed and pressure, slipping his fingertips across the head and flicking at the frenulum. He rolled to kneel between Dwalin’s legs and used his other hand to cup Dwalin’s testicles, rolling them lightly and tugging gently, so gently, watching Dwalin’s face carefully. Judging by the expression of sheer hunger in Dwalin’s eyes, the slackness of his mouth, the speed of his breathing, Ori was doing well. He felt Dwalin’s hard penis throb under his hand and he brought his gaze back down to it. It was engorged, red-purple even in the bleaching light, and he smiled and began to stroke hard and fast, short jerks that circled the head and covered the shaft.

Suddenly, with a moaned “Oh, _fuck_ ,” Dwalin’s entire body arched like a hooked fish and his penis throbbed hard in Ori’s hand as he orgasmed, hot sticky wetness spurting out across his stomach. Moved by a sudden impulse he couldn’t have explained, Ori leaned down and licked across the head of Dwalin’s still-pulsing erection, tasting the musk-and-salt taste of him.

Dwalin started laughing, weakly at first and then with greater force. Ori sat back on his heels, startled and wondering if he should be insulted. “You are _way_ better at that than a virgin has any right to be,” Dwalin said at last, scrubbing one hand across his watering eyes.

Ori laughed too, then. “Well, I have a lot of practice…on myself, anyway,” he said, his voice self-deprecating and dry. “That was…that was good, then?” 

Dwalin stared up at Ori in disbelief. The boy actually sounded worried! “Ori, that was amazing. I don’t think I could walk right now if it would save my life!” he answered. It was true, too; Dwalin’s entire body felt wrung out, his legs like wet noodles. And that from just a handjob! If Ori proved to be such a natural talent in other sex acts, Dwalin was going to be hard-pressed to keep up with him! 

 

But for now...Dwalin sat up and took Ori’s hips in his hands, swinging their bodies around so that Ori was lying prone and Dwalin was kneeling over him. The younger man gasped in surprise, looking up at Dwalin with his mouth open. “Your turn,” Dwalin growled. 

He slipped his finger tips under the waistband of Ori’s boxers and lifted it carefully, skinning it down over Ori’s hips. He’d been able to tell from the way the fabric tented that Ori was turned on, but when his hard cock sprang free of the fabric Dwalin almost fell over. 

“Damn! Hung like a horse! Where do you hide that fucking thing?” he exclaimed. Even in the dimness of the room he could see Ori blushing. Fascinatingly, the flush even spread across the boy’s chest and stomach. It was adorable.

He reached down and wrapped one hand around Ori’s cock, squeezing lightly. The young man gasped and arched, then bit at his lip as he watched Dwalin with glazed-over eyes. Dwalin reminded himself that Ori had never felt another man’s hands on his cock before and grinned fiercely. He was going to give this surprising young man the best fucking orgasm of his life. 

He bent swiftly and, before Ori could react, drew his tongue from the base of Ori’s cock up to the head, swirling it around the tip. Ori gave a shout of surprise and bucked hard, his hips coming up off the mattress. Dwalin pressed firmly with one hand until the young man’s body was flat again and then sealed his mouth around the head of Ori’s cock, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucked. He could hear Ori panting above him and could feel the young man’s thighs trembling hard as he took more of Ori’s length into his mouth. He wrapped one hand around the base of his cock as he sucked, sliding it up along the slick hot skin in time with the movements of his mouth. He used his tongue, too, swirling it around Ori’s shaft as he moved his mouth, lips firm, up and down. Every so often he paused to slip the tip of his tongue around the rim of the head, enjoying the way Ori’s moaning turned shrill each time. Finally, as Ori’s body continued to shake and roll, Dwalin let himself settle into a steady rhythm, head and hand moving in concert, tongue flickering and swirling. The sounds Ori was making grew more desperate, his breathing a harsh, tearing rasp. Dwalin could feel sweat sliding down the thighs bracketing his body.

“Dwalin...I’m going to...” Ori started, then bucked hard with a feral growl as he came, cock throbbing in Dwalin’s mouth.

Dwalin swallowed hard but didn’t let up, continuing to suck and lick as Ori shuddered through his climax, emptying the young man out thoroughly. Finally Ori reached out and shoved his head away. Dwalin popped back up and grinned at him, knowing his beard was soaked with sweat and other fluids and his lips were reddened with the friction. Ori just stared back at him dazedly, eyes glazed and mouth slack. That was satisfaction if Dwalin had ever seen it and he felt almost absurdly proud of himself for putting that look there. 

“Dwalin...that was...was....” Ori couldn’t seem to find a word to finish. “Wow.”

Dwalin laughed as he let himself collapse to the bed beside Ori, wrapping one arm across the younger man’s stomach. He burrowed his face into the space between Ori’s neck and shoulder and breathed in the mingled smells of sex and sweat and Ori’s own distinctive sweet-musk scent. 

“That was just a taste, Ori. There’s a lot more we can share,” he whispered.

“I look forward to it,” Ori sighed, tracing one fingertip over Muninn. Dwalin shivered. He’d never again be able to let anyone touch his tattoos without thinking of this evening and Ori and the look on the young man’s face after his orgasm. He felt his limp cock twitch half-heartedly at the very thought of it and laughed deep in his throat.

 _So much more still to share_...


	6. Just Trust Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin and Ori both get some brotherly advice...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two-part chapter...one from Dwalin's perspective and one from Ori's. Enjoy!

Dwalin and Balin sat quietly at their usual table in the back corner of the Green Dragon Pub. Balin had about half a glass of Guinness left and Dwalin was nursing his customary tumbler of Laphroaig, neat, staring into the amber liquid meditatively as he turned the glass between his thick fingers.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Balin observed, finally. His voice was mild, and the question was there, but unstated, in case Dwalin did not want to answer it. Dwalin appreciated that about his big brother, that quiet discretion and care.

He debated his words for a moment, then spoke. “I’ve been…seeing someone, Balin.”

“Yes, I thought as much,” Balin said. “You had a look about you…a lightness I don’t often see.”

Dwalin smiled briefly. “He’s wonderful, Balin. You’d like him; he’s a librarian. He even got me reading again.” Dwalin had loved American Gods, being sold on it immediately, on the first page…the first paragraph, even, when the main character was described as “big enough and don't-fuck-with-me enough,” a description Dwalin had since taken to applying to himself, at least in his mind. But beyond that, the stories of the gods, all of them displaced from their homeland and just trying to get by, had resonated. And the revelation that two…or three, depending on how you counted…of the main characters were Norse gods? Well. He’d found himself tracing his own tattoos, thinking of Ori. Yes, he’d liked the book. And they even drank Laphroaig at one point, too. He took a long sip, thinking about it.

“Well! You’re right! If he got you to read, I like him already!” Balin said with a chuckle. “But…?” Balin let his voice trail off.

Dwalin sighed. “But. _But_ he’s ten years younger than me, and while that alone doesn’t bother me, he’s not out, Balin. He’s…he’s hiding from himself.”

“Well, so did you for a long time, brother mine,” Balin pointed out. “So do a lot of people, sadly. Some never come out openly. That can’t be your real problem?”

“Yes and no,” Dwalin said, not quite sure how to articulate it. “He’s got this brother…about my age, I guess. Basically raised him after their parents died. And Ori loves him, but he’s trapped by him, too. His brother is…very particular, and very proper. Ori says he gets “mother-henned” by him all the time. And he’s afraid to tell his brother about us because he couldn’t deal with it if his brother rejects him for it. He’s torn between us and…I don’t know who he’ll choose.”

“Ah, I see,” Balin said quietly. 

“He won’t even stay the night with me,” Dwalin growled, thinking back to the evening before. They’d been physically intimate for the first time, _finally_ , and Dwalin had wanted nothing more than to fold Ori into his arms and fall asleep that way and wake up that way and fuck again and have breakfast and fuck and just generally spend the day wrapped up in each other. But after far too little time, Ori had extricated himself from the tangle of their limbs and, pleading the lateness of the hour and the worries of his brother, had left. And instead of spending the day with his lover, Dwalin had just sat around, sketching up ideas for new tattoos and flipping through his art reference books distractedly until Balin had called to invite him out for dinner. “And Balin…he’s…he’s _rich_. Or his brother is, I don’t know. They own this amazing townhome in Lincoln Park…own the whole building! Not only am I not good enough for him, but why would he pick me over that life, if it came down to a choice?”

“You stop that!” Balin admonished. “I won’t have anyone put down my brother, not even my brother! You are good enough for anyone, Dwalin. And if this Ori fellow would pick a nice house over you…well, then, _he’s_ not good enough for _you_.”

“I don’t know if he actually would,” Dwalin said. “I’m just afraid.” He let out a breath. “Balin…I love him.” His voice was low as he admitted this, his eyes locked on his drink.

“Oh, Dwalin,” Balin said with a sigh. “If you love him, he must be something special. You’re going to have to trust yourself…I don’t think you would fall in love with the sort of person who’d throw you over for a house, no matter how nice it is.”

“But he might pick his brother over me,” Dwalin said quietly. “And who could blame him? You know how important family is, Balin.”

“Yes, I do,” Balin said quietly. “And I’m a literature professor; I know how all the myriad ways epic romances can go wrong.” His voice was dry, and his lips twisted in a wry smirk. “But I still think you have to trust yourself to have chosen a good man…and you have to trust Ori, too. He’ll do what’s right for him, and if you’re lucky, he’ll do what’s right for you, too. And if not…well, you can always declare war, lay siege to the townhome, and then send his brother a giant wooden horse….”

Dwalin barked a laugh. “Sounds a bit extreme.”

“Well, if you don’t like that plan, I have centuries’ worth of material to mine. You just come ask me for help, my boy,” Balin said, a twinkle in his eye. “But all joking aside…I am happy for you, Dwalin. I really am. And for your sake, I hope Ori finds a way to make you _both_ happy.”

Dwalin reached over and squeezed his brother’s forearm hard in gratitude. “Thank you, Balin. Just…thank you.”

“You just have to trust him, Dwalin,” the older man said. “Just trust him.”

***

By the time Ori got out of bed that morning, _the morning after_ , as he thought of it with a flush of excitement and desire, Dori had been up for hours. Laying in bed awake but not yet ready to get up and face the day, Ori’d heard his brother running the shower, listened to his footsteps on the stairs, had heard the coffee grinder and then smelled the fresh brew…and then he’d heard the front door open and a familiar voice greeting Dori cheerfully. Nori was here! It had been months since he’d last seen his other brother! That was enough to get Ori out of bed.

In his haste, he didn’t bother with a shower; this was his Saturday off at the library and he didn’t need to be anywhere, anyway. Throwing on an old terry bathrobe over his pajamas and slipping his feet into sheepskin slippers, Ori headed straight down to the kitchen, knowing he would most likely find both of his brothers there.

Nori smiled and looked up from his plate of eggs and toast when Ori came clattering into the kitchen all in a rush. Dori was sitting on the other side of the table, arms folded across his chest, lips pinched tight. Same old, same old.

“Nori!” Ori crowed, hugging his brother tight. Nori hugged back, then sat back in his chair and carefully smoothed the front of his shirt, tugging it back into place. He looked impeccable as usual, his chestnut hair perfectly coiffed, his Van Dyke style beard meticulously trimmed and waxed with each hair precisely in its place. His dark grey dress shirt looked to be silk, with French cuffs secured by ruby-studded cufflinks. Dark indigo jeans broke perfectly over glossy black lizard-skin shoes, and Ori suffered a brief pang of envy as he remembered his own too-long Levi’s and scuffed loafers.

“You look good,” Ori said, after his appraisal. “Luck must be with you.”

“Yes, the fickle bitch has smiled on me lately,” Nori answered with a switchblade grin. It was his standard answer when he’d been having a run of success in his current ventures; the other side of the coin was “that fickle bitch has run off with another man.”

Dori sniffed. “Oh, _luck_! Nothing wrong with a little hard work, you know.”

“Of course there is!” Nori responded cheerfully. “Hard work is _hard_! It’s right there in the name!”

“So I suppose you’re _not_ here to borrow money, then, since your luck is with you?” Dori asked, voice dripping sarcasm.

“‘Course not! Just here to see my little brothers,” Nori answered, mussing Ori’s hair with one hand. Ori laughed and ducked away, crossing the kitchen to see if there was any food left.

“Well,” Dori said, standing. “I was on my way to the Green Market to do the shopping. Ori, would you care to come along?”

Ori turned, eyes wide. “Uh, no…I’m okay here….”

“Hmph. I thought not. Nori, do behave and try not to get our little brother into any trouble in my absence, mmm?” Dori said acidly. Nori popped off a sarcastic little salute with one hand as he shoved the last bit of toast in his mouth with the other. 

Dori sighed heavily and left the kitchen, muttering under his breath. Ori caught the words “irresponsible” and “bad influence” in there and hid a smile. If Dori only knew…but then he sobered. If Dori _did_ know…well, even beyond the fact that Dwalin was a man, he was definitely “not our kind,” in Dori’s estimation. What would Dori do? Kick him out of the house? Refuse to speak to him ever again? Ori couldn’t even imagine. As much as his brother annoyed him, he owed the older man a lot and he knew it. 

“Out with it, boy,” Nori said suddenly, jarring him out of his thoughts.

“…with what?” Ori asked, confused.

“You have that look that means you’re thinking too hard about something. Out with it!” Nori said. “I may be irresponsible and a bad influence, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help with some things, you know.”

“Oh…I know that!” Ori hastened to assure him. He paused then, trying to decide what to say. If he told Nori his problem, it would mean telling him _everything_. It would mean coming out as gay. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. But he looked at his brother’s sharp-featured face and saw real concern there, and even some kindness. He made up his mind.

“I’ve…been seeing someone,” Ori said.

“That’s great, Ori!” his brother said. “Tell me all about her!”

“Well…see, that’s kind of the issue. She’s…a he,” Ori said, trying hard not to drop his eyes while he said it. He was not ashamed of anything, but to see disgust on his brother’s face would be too hard.

To Ori’s shock, not only did Nori not look disgusted, but his smile actually broadened. “Oh, Ori. I thought so! I’m so happy for you. It’s hard to live a lie.”

“What? You…thought I was gay?” Ori asked, mind whirling.

“I’m a pretty perceptive fellow, you know,” Nori said smugly. “I was just waiting for you to tell me. I’m so glad you have. How did Dori take it?”

Ori just stared at him. Nori’s smile faded. “Oh. You haven’t told him, have you?”

Ori shook his head.

“Why not?” Nori demanded. “I know he’s a goddamned fusspot but he loves you, Ori, and he’s not a hatemonger. He won't think any less of you for this.”

“Are you sure about that?” Ori asked. “He drives me crazy sometimes, you know he does, but…after Mom and Dad died…he did everything for me. He gave up his whole social life, all his friends, to take care of me. He got up extra early to make me bagged lunches and he helped me with my homework and he made me soup when I was sick and…well…I love him, and I can’t lose him!”

“And what about this man you’re dating?” Nori asked. “Do you love him?”

The question staggered him. Ori hadn’t yet let himself think in such terms. But he knew, all the same. “Yes. I do.”

“Dori won’t make you choose,” Nori said. “He’s an ass and he drives me absolutely batshit, but I do know this much: All he wants…all he’s ever wanted…is for you to be happy.”

“I wish I could believe that,” Ori sighed.

Nori reached out and patted his hand. “You just have to trust him, Ori. I won’t tell him about this, but you have to. You can’t hide from him forever. You…just have to trust him.”


	7. Love and Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On one very special night, Dwalin and Ori finally tell each other how they feel, then head out for a crazy evening with friends...and then back to Dwalin's place for some adult touching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up twice as long as most of my chapters! Sorry!
> 
> Also, sexy-times alert! You can safely read the first 2/3 or so if you don't want to see the smut, then jump all the way to the end for some resumption of the plot...

Ori sat in the comfortable leather chair by the window in Dwalin's apartment, flipping through one of the older man's books. He'd decided that it wouldn't be terribly rude to look at Dwalin's small bookcase, after all, especially since Dwalin was off in the kitchen cooking dinner and Ori was rather at loose ends in the meantime. The bookcase had proved to contain books of art and photography and traditional tattoo designs from around the world. There were books about symbology, about hieroglyphics, about folktales and mythology. It was quite a fascinating mix. Dwalin had told him he kept a similar, but smaller, collection at the shop.

The book Ori'd picked to look at was on Norse myth. Since something about it clearly resonated with Dwalin, he figured he'd best familiarize himself with it. He traced his fingers over an elaborate woodcut-style illustration of the dragon Nidhogg, gnawing at the roots of the world tree Yggdrasil. The designs were beautiful; he could understand Dwalin's fascination.

Dwalin watched from the kitchen doorway as Ori pored over his books. It was adorable; the smaller man had drawn his legs up into the chair under him and was completely engrossed in his reading, the smallest crease of concentration between his eyebrows. Dwalin could get used to this sight, really. He almost hated to interrupt, but the food was ready.

Dwalin had decided this evening to make dinner for them himself rather than trying yet another restaurant. He wasn't the world's greatest cook, but anyone who lives alone for any length of time eventually masters at least one or two simple recipes. Tonight's pan-fried steaks and baked potatoes were among the best of Dwalin's somewhat limited repertoire. Left to his own devices, most evenings he just nuked a frozen pizza.

Dwalin walked all the way up beside Ori and the younger man didn't even flinch, he was so engrossed in the book. Dwalin looked over his shoulder and saw that the book was open to the full-page spread illustration of Yggdrasil. Dwalin had this illustration, adapted into his own distinctive style, inked on his back. Ori's small, ink-stained fingers were tracing the shape of Ratatoskr the squirrel. Dwalin knelt and caught up Ori's hand, kissing the fingers one by one. Ori jumped in surprise, then smiled and gave a low laugh as Dwalin nibbled at his fingertips. 

"You have almost as much ink on your skin as I do," Dwalin said, stroking the permanent black staining on Ori's hand. "But I've never seen what causes it." He left the statement there, simple. An artist himself, he knew that sometimes, what a person creates when left in solitude is meant to stay in solitude. Given the nature of his own work, a lot of it became public whether he wanted it to or not, of course...his most common canvas being the skins of other people. But he had his own sketchbook and his own art supplies and understood the urge to privacy.

Ori looked at him in silence for a long moment, clearly weighing his decision. Then he closed the book on his lap and bent to dig in the leather satchel by his feet. He came up with a large leather-bound journal and a matching pouch which he unrolled to reveal an old fountain pen and a few replacement ink cartridges.

Ori smiled tentatively as he displayed his tools to Dwalin. He'd never even showed this journal to Dori, though his brother had asked about it many times, and much less tactfully than Dwalin had. "The pen leaks, you see?" he said, pulling it out and displaying the ink-stained barrel. "But it belonged to my father."

Dwalin nodded, clearly understanding why Ori wouldn't give up the leaky pen for something newer. Ori loved that about him, the way he just understood. 

With shaky hands, Ori offered the journal to Dwalin. The bigger man took it gently and flipped it open to the page marked by a red satin ribbon. An image of Dwalin's own face stared back from the page, complete with tattoos and the rows of steel rings in his ears. Ori cringed slightly, waiting for Dwalin's reaction, unable to meet his eyes.

The older man took a deep breath and let it out slowly, reaching one thick finger toward the page but not quite touching. Slowly, he turned the pages. One page displayed a face he recognized from their first date...Bilbo, the owner of the restaurant. Another showed Bofur grinning and Bifur, complete with his puckered scar. Some of the pages only contained rough sketches; Dwalin recognized versions of his own tattoos as Ori tried to get them right from memory. Then there were a couple of faces he didn't know, but whose resemblance to Ori told him they must be his brothers. The most recent drawing made him catch his breath sharply. His own nude body, spread out across the page as though across a bed, tattoos lovingly detailed. He stared at this one, amazed. The facial expression Ori had captured was one he’d felt on his face from the other side, but had never seen…inviting, soft. His smile was slight, but warm. His eyes held a glimmer. Somehow, with only white paper and black ink, Ori had made him beautiful.

Dwalin looked at Ori, seeing the younger man's downcast eyes. "This...is how you see me?" he asked, past a lump in his throat. Ori nodded slowly, still not meeting his eyes.

Dwalin reached out a hand and tilted Ori's face up, making the younger man look at him. "Ori...I...thank you. This is...amazing. Brilliant."

Ori blushed furiously and Dwalin leaned over and pressed his lips to Ori's, feeling a strange warmth spreading through his chest, his heart beating fast but not from arousal. "Ori," he whispered against the younger man's mouth. "I...love you."

Ori startled hard, jerking back from Dwalin. Of all the possible reactions to his sketch book, he had never once expected this one. Was Dwalin serious, really? _Could_ he be serious? Ori searched Dwalin's eyes, seeing a softness there, and a warmth. In fact, his face looked much as it did in the sketchbook still open on his knee. He was serious.

"I love you, too," Ori whispered, feeling like a supernova was exploding in his chest. Dwalin grinned fiercely and then surged forward, kissing him hard, demandingly, tongue flickering against his lips until Ori opened his mouth and fought to meet him thrust for thrust, the wet heat delicious and nearly overwhelming. 

After a long, breathless moment, Dwalin broke the kiss and murmured, "Dinner's getting cold!" Ori groaned with disappointment, but then his stomach growled audibly and they both laughed. 

“I think my hormones have been overruled,” Ori said ruefully, patting his belly.

“I’ll make it up to them later,” Dwalin growled, nipping sharply at Ori’s bottom lip before standing and lifting Ori effortlessly to his feet. “And that’s a promise.”

 

***

Ori sat at the beer-sticky table, feeling a bit awkward. He was happy to be here, though, he really was. After they’d eaten, Dwalin had asked if he might like to go out and meet Dwalin’s friends at Lola’s, their regular bar. 

“I know you were a bit upset that I’d never introduced you to my friends before,” Dwalin had said quietly. “I’ll be honest with you…I didn’t want to scare you away. My friends are loud and rowdy and they drink too much and they smoke and I’m not sure the last time any of them set foot in a library and…I wanted you to like me. I guess I was afraid that if you met my friends, you wouldn’t.”

Ori had smacked his arm playfully. “Clearly I like you pretty well,” he’d answered. “I’d be…honored, actually…to meet the people you choose to call friends.”

And so here they were. The doorman had just waved them past without checking their ID; apparently Dwalin was enough of a regular that such formalities weren’t necessary. Ori had even heard the doorman tell Dwalin that his group was in the upstairs bar. Definitely a known quantity, then. 

So Ori had followed Dwalin around the back of a jukebox and up a staircase he’d never have noticed on his own, up into the upstairs bar. It was smaller than the room downstairs, and only half-full when they’d arrived. Ori had recognized Thorin immediately, even from the brief encounter at Dwalin’s shop. The older man had a presence to him that was striking even in small doses. The other two men were introduced as Oin and Gloin, a pair of brothers.

“Oin’s a bit deaf, so you’ll have to excuse him,” Dwalin had explained. “In a loud bar like this it doesn’t matter how high his hearing aid’s turned up. We fuck with him sometimes, talking real quiet just to see what he thinks we’re saying….”

Somehow Ori had ended up sitting beside Oin at the table, with Dwalin across the way. The older man didn’t talk much and Ori felt a bit at loose ends. So he sipped at his can of beer…some cheap brand he’d never heard of but what seemed to be the beer of choice here, judging by the teetering pyramid of empty cans they were building on the table.

“Hey there!” came a familiar voice suddenly, and Ori felt himself clapped on the back quite hard. He looked up to see Bofur looming over him with a wide, toothy grin. Ori sighed in relief; Bofur was so cheerful and outgoing that he knew he’d have a good time now that Bofur was here. Bofur dragged an empty chair over from the next table over and dropped into it beside him. 

Almost immediately, though, Bofur popped back up. “Ooooh, I love this song!” he crowed, and began singing along while dancing madly. Ori couldn’t understand a word he was singing, and wasn’t at all convinced that Bofur’s words matched up with the actual lyrics of the song playing, but damn if it wasn’t catchy, and Bofur was a surprisingly good singer, too! Ori laughed and started clapping his hands along with the music. Before he knew it, Bofur had seized his arm, dragged him to his feet, and started swinging him around the crowded bar. 

“Oh, sorry! Sorry! Ooof, sorry sorry!” Ori called out as he was bounced against or into various strangers. Pretty soon, there was a wide empty space around their table and the others had joined them, hopping and twirling madly, yet somehow it almost seemed choreographed. Ori was breathless from laughter and exertion by the time he found himself flung against Dwalin’s chest, the big man’s arms going around him to keep him from stumbling.

“I really like your friends,” he managed, and felt Dwalin’s arms tighten around his body.

***

Dwalin caught Ori as the boy stumbled through the door of his apartment. The cheap beer they’d been drinking all night only tasted like water; it could and would get you as drunk as the good stuff. Ori hadn’t had all that much, but he was small and not used to keeping up with friends like Dwalin’s and was now a bit light on his feet. 

He was a hilarious drunk, though, trying to remember the words to the song Bofur’d been singing and repeatedly trying to pull Dwalin into dancing with him as they’d walked back to Dwalin’s place. Slowly, though, Ori had sobered, the cold air and the long walk doing him good, and now seemed just mildly tipsy.

Dwalin was happy. Perfectly, unabashedly, completely happy. He loved this young man, and he was loved back. Ori had hit it off with his friends. There was still the hurdle of Ori’s brother to pass, but Dwalin was feeling much more confident about that now, as well. Balin had been right; he just needed to trust Ori.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Ori threw himself at Dwalin, kissing him sloppily but with real passion. Dwalin caught his breath and took Ori’s head between his hands, redirecting the kiss into something slow-burning and deep. He felt the younger man’s body melt against his and dropped one arm to Ori’s waist. Without breaking the kiss, Ori started to walk backwards, pulling Dwalin along with him. It was the reverse of what had happened the first time they’d come back to Dwalin’s place together, Ori dragging Dwalin to the bedroom. Dwalin laughed against Ori’s mouth and let himself be dragged.

Somehow they made it to the bedroom without injury and began tearing at each others’ clothing. Ori pushed Dwalin’s jeans down to his ankles and Dwalin stepped out of them, enjoying the look on Ori’s face as he gazed at the older man’s cock. But despite taking the initiative at first, Ori now seemed frozen in place. Dwalin reminded himself of the younger man’s inexperience and gently pushed Ori’s shoulders until the younger man backed up against the bed and then stretched himself out on it. 

“What do you want?” Dwalin asked, his voice low and rough.

“I…don’t know. You,” Ori answered, his voice sounding just as raw. “I trust you.”

At that, Dwalin felt his fragile control snap and growled deep in his throat. He threw a leg over Ori, straddling him, their hard cocks lined up against each other. Ori gasped and wriggled under him and Dwalin reached down and wrapped his hand around both of their cocks together, jerking his hand hard so that they slid against each other. Through the fog of his lust, he heard Ori moaning and he bent forward, nipping at Ori’s throat and then down across his chest, rolling the nubs of Ori’s nipples between his teeth and flicking them with his tongue. Ori twitched and rolled under him and Dwalin grinned fiercely as he reached Ori’s stomach. He carefully avoided Ori’s cock, continuing to bite and suck down the insides of each of the other man’s thighs. He could feel the muscles quivering and jumping under his mouth and his own cock was aching deliciously. 

Dwalin dug his fingers into Ori’s hips and flipped the younger man over in one quick motion, then lowered his head and nipped hard at the globes of Ori’s ass. The sounds Ori was making increased in pitch sharply and he bucked his hips hard.

“Okay?” Dwalin managed to ask, remembering himself.

“Okay…” Ori panted back. “More than…okay….”

With a low sound, Dwalin dropped his head back down, spreading Ori’s ass apart with his hands. He nipped and sucked and licked, moving ever closer to Ori’s asshole. When his tongue brushed the opening in a quick swirling motion, Ori nearly screamed. Firming his tongue to a point, Dwalin slowly and gently slipped it inside Ori.

Ori couldn’t believe Dwalin was doing this. It was so filthy and yet so arousing. He’d never felt anything like it. A low heat began pooling in his stomach as Dwalin licked at his backside, breaching him over and over. He felt his erection throbbing against the bedcovers and fought the urge to reach for it, wanting to see what Dwalin would do with him. The bigger man continued to lick and suck at him, his tongue slipping further and further in until Ori was sure the whole thing was somehow inside him. The sensations were amazing, a feeling of violation and intrusion slowly giving way to a delirious trembling heat. 

When Dwalin suddenly pulled his head away, Ori heard himself moan in desolation, missing his tongue immediately. He heard the bed creak as Dwalin leaned his weight to the side and then the sound of a drawer being opened. And then something new was brushing against his saliva-slick ass…Dwalin’s finger, slicked in lube. When the bigger man slowly pushed inside Ori, he felt his whole body tense against the intrusion. The finger was bigger and harder than the tongue and it felt strange; he felt a burn as he was stretched open and he hissed sharply.

“Breath, Ori,” Dwalin urged quietly. “It will hurta bit, but breath with it and relax and it will feel better…it will feel so good....”

Ori forced himself to calm, breathing deeply through his nose and out through his mouth. He felt himself relax around Dwalin’s finger and suddenly it slipped in easily. Ori gasped and his hips bucked involuntarily. Dwalin had brushed something, some bundle of nerves, and Ori thought it must be his prostate. Whatever it was had sent sparks shooting behind his eyes and he felt his erection throbbing with the almost painful need to release. And that was from a mere brush. Thinking of how it would feel to have Dwalin fuck him with more than a finger, Ori heard himself moaning uncontrollably.

Dwalin felt the younger man’s body go taut and guessed he’d hit his mark. He slowly eased his finger back out, then pushed slowly in, angling to brush the prostate gently. He heard Ori gasp and moan and felt him pushing back against Dwalin’s finger hard, and Dwalin rode the younger man’s movements, meeting him thrust for thrust. His cock was so hard it hurt, flush with his stomach and glistening with pre-come.

And then he heard Ori gasping, trying to say something through the waves of pleasure. Dwalin slowed his hand and Ori managed to say, “Dwalin…would you…would you fuck me?”

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Dwalin moaned. Just the words made him feel like he was about to come, the words and the utterly ravaged sound of Ori’s voice. He could see the side of Ori’s face, red and dripping with sweat, an expression of utter, glazed need in his eyes. “Yes, Ori…yes. It will hurt more than the finger…” he warned.

“Don’t…care….” Ori gasped.

Dwalin prepared the younger man thoroughly, slicking his hand with lube and slowly adding a second finger, and then a third, stretching and opening Ori as gently as possible. It was hard to hold himself back; Ori was becoming demanding, pushing back against his hand greedily and moaning Dwalin’s name over and over. But he forced himself to be careful and responsible.

Finally, he judged Ori ready. He leaned over to the side table again and plucked a condom from the box, tearing the little package open with his teeth and rolling it onto his aching cock with one hand. Then he carefully lubed himself up as thickly as possible and slowly began to push himself into Ori. He had to force his body to stillness immediately; Ori was so hot and so tight around him that he almost came at once. But then Ori began to wriggle against him and so Dwalin took a deep breath and thrust all the way in, snapping his hips hard and feeling Ori take him.

Ori hissed against the initial stretch; a penis was as different from fingers as fingers were from a tongue, it turned out. But when the burn subsided, he felt filled and overwhelmed and couldn’t help moving against the hardness inside him. With a suddenness that took his breath away, Dwalin thrust fully into him and set up a steady rhythm. It felt amazing, but Dwalin hadn’t quite hit that sensitive bundle of nerves inside him. Ori twisted and bucked, changing the angle until suddenly there it was and he felt those sparks shooting through his brain as Dwalin hit his prostate over and over. With every thrust, Ori was pushed against the bed and his painfully hard cock was rubbed against the bedcover. He dropped one hand to his erection and just fisted it around the head, allowing Dwalin’s motions to move him inside the circle of his fingers, fucking his own hand. A few more hard thrusts and suddenly the sparks in his head were flowing down his spine and circling his groin, a liquid pool of fire that built and built and finally erupted, seeming to empty his entire body out onto the sheets.

Dwalin felt, more than heard, Ori coming under him. The muscles of Ori’s ass clenched tightly around him as his body arched and vibrated like a plucked guitar string. The sudden tightness and tremor was enough to knock him over the edge into his own climax and he grunted and swore as his cock throbbed hard inside Ori.

They collapsed forward together, Dwalin’s softening cock still inside Ori. He could feel the younger man still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm and slowly, as gently as possible, slid himself out, wincing sympathetically when Ori flinched. All Dwalin wanted to do was fall forward into bed, but he forced his wobbly legs to carry him to the bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm damp washcloth. He cleaned them both gently, turning Ori to swipe the cloth across his belly. Nothing much could be done about the bedcover, but Dwalin just turned it back so they could slip their wrung-out bodies under the sheets.

“That was…I don’t even have words. Amazing? Incredible?” Ori murmured as Dwalin slipped into the bed behind him, spooning against his back and intertwining their legs. 

“You say that now, but you’ll be sore tomorrow,” Dwalin said, with a low laugh.

“I’ll deal with that tomorrow,” Ori said. “Right now, everything is perfect.”

Dwalin nuzzled the back of Ori’s neck, planting a small kiss just behind his ear. Slowly, their bodies relaxed and they fell deeply, peacefully, asleep.

 

Some hours later, Ori’s phone, set to vibrate and unheeded in his satchel, buzzed and flashed.

From: Dori  
 _Ori? Where are you? You said you’d be out late, but it’s 3 am!_  
From: Dori  
 _Ori?! I’m getting worried!_  
From: Dori  
 _Ori? ORI? This isn’t funny! Come home as soon as you get this!_

From: Nori  
 _Dori’s completely flipping his shit, Ori. Wanted to call the cops. You should have said if you weren’t coming home! I talked him out of cops but had to tell him you had a date. Didn’t say with who. But you’re going to have to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED TO ADD: Safe sex first, people! I realized after posting this that I neglected Dwalin using a condom. FIXED NOW.


	8. Never Meant to Hurt You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori flies into a panic when he wakes up and realizes he's spent the night at Dwalin's and that Dori will be furious...then heads home to try and put things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely shorter than the last chapter, and not the final confrontation, either. I sort of wanted that to stand on its own, if possible. :-D

Dwalin woke slowly, the morning sunlight hot on his face. He found himself still wrapped around Ori’s sleeping body, the skin where they touched slick with sweat. He had woken hard, as he usually did, and his erection was pressed against Ori’s smooth ass. Dwalin smiled sleepily and pushed himself tighter against Ori’s body, not incidentally sliding his cock against Ori’s soft slick skin as he did so. Dwalin pressed a kiss to the back of the younger man’s neck when he stirred at the movement.

“Mmm, good morning, sleepy-head,” Dwalin murmured into Ori’s hair.

“Morning,” Ori said through a yawn. “Wait…morning?” Dwalin felt Ori’s body go tense as a guitar string as the peace of the moment was abruptly broken. Ori struggled in the circle of his arms and Dwalin released him, surprised and confused.

Ori threw himself out of the bed and across the room, scrabbling through their hastily discarded clothing until he found his satchel and pulled out his cell phone, scrolling through the screens.

“Oh…fuck…fuck…FUCK!” Ori swore, his voice shrill and panicky. Now Dwalin was shocked and not a little bit worried. Ori’s demands in bed last night notwithstanding, the younger man seldom swore and hardly ever said fuck. 

“What? What is it? What’s wrong?” Dwalin asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

Ori didn’t answer except to toss his phone onto the bed. He curled up on the floor, knees to his chest, and now trembling. Dwalin picked up the phone and scrolled through the increasingly distraught texts Dori had sent the night before.

“There’s one from Nori, too,” Ori said, his voice gone dull and flat. “He had to tell Dori I was on a date to calm him down so he didn’t try to report me missing. Nori didn’t tell about…about who you are…but he says I have to.”

Dwalin’s heart started hammering hard in his chest. This was the moment he’d feared so much. He knew, Jesus fuck but he knew, how hard it was to come out openly. _Just trust him_ , he heard Balin’s voice reminding him. _Just trust him_.

Dwalin slid out of bed and joined Ori on the floor. The younger man was now shaking, rocking in place, breathing in great tearing gasps. “Dwalin…he’s going to be so mad…he’s going to…oh, fuck, what am I going to do?”

Dwalin put one big hand on either side of Ori’s face and held it steady, forcing Ori to meet his eyes. “First of all, you’re going to breath, Ori. If you start hyperventilating, nothing will be any better. Breath with me. In slow through your nose….and out through your mouth. That’s it….” he said, sucking in deep, slow breaths until Ori started to match him breath for breath and his trembling finally slowed. “And second, you’re just going to tell Dori the truth. I know it’s hard…I know it’s scary. But you are an adult and you are an amazing person and you deserve your own life on your own terms. And for that, you have to tell him the truth.”

Ori stared at him, wide-eyed. “I…I…I don’t know,” he stammered. “I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know what to _say_! I can’t. I can’t tell him. How can I tell him? What will he say? Oh, fuck, FUCK.” 

Dwalin’s heart sank into his stomach. “If…you don’t want to tell him…I understand that, Ori. But I need you to understand something, too. I can’t be with someone who has to sneak around and lie forever. I’m too old and too jaded for that kind of shit now. You and I would never have any kind of future together if you can’t be honest with your family about us. It would just end up tearing us apart later down the road and everything would hurt so much more then.”

Ori looked shocked. “Dwalin! No! No, I…love you. I know I have to tell him. I know I do. I want a future with you, I do! It’s just…scary, and huge.” His voice sounded plaintive and his eyes were wet with tears.

“Oh, Ori,” Dwalin sighed, then wrapped his big arms around Ori’s body and pulled the smaller man onto his lap as a relief like delirium flooded his brain. “If you want, I’ll come with you. I’ll stand beside you while you tell him. If that would help…” he offered.

Ori sighed. “I think…maybe I should tell him alone? But…oh, fuck, I want you with me, too! I don’t know…” The younger man was crying now in earnest and he buried his face in the crook of Dwalin’s neck. Dwalin could feel the hot tears rolling down his chest and he just rocked Ori and murmured meaningless sounds of comfort until finally, Ori pushed back and wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands.

“Okay,” Ori said, his voice still quavering but sounding a bit more determined. “I’ll go home now, and I’ll talk to Dori. I’ll apologize for not calling last night to tell him I wasn’t coming in. I’ll tell him I’ve been seeing someone, and that I’m in love. And I’ll tell him that if he wants to meet you, we’ll meet at the Greenwood Wine Bar tonight at 7. He likes that place; it might help make him more comfortable?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dwalin agreed with a forced grin. Now that the moment was near, he found the idea of meeting Ori’s brother strangely intimidating, though he’d never admit it. “Just, uh, text me if anything changes…or if you need anything. And remember, Ori…I love you, and no matter what your brother says, we’ll deal with it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ori said, with a tiny, heartbreakingly hopeful smile. 

***

Ori stood outside for long, breathless minutes, hand hovering over the door handle. He couldn’t really believe he was about to do this. The whole thing felt completely unreal, like it was happening to someone else. But then he remembered how it had felt to wake up in Dwalin’s arms that morning, the quiet warm perfection of that dreamy moment…before he’d ruined things by panicking, anyway. He took heart from the memory, though, squared his shoulders, and opened the door.

His footsteps echoed on the parquet floor of the entryway, but otherwise the house was silent. Ori had just begun to wonder if his brothers were even home when, with a sudden clatter all the more shocking for the previous silence, Dori came running out of the kitchen toward him with his bathrobe fluttering behind him like a flag.

Ori braced himself, not sure from the expression on Dori’s face if the older man was going to hug him or slap him. Dori ground to a halt in front of him and it seemed like he didn’t know what he wanted to do, either. His arms lifted and then dropped back to his sides. He reached out one hand toward Ori’s face and then pulled it back. Finally his hands closed into fists at his sides.

“I don’t know whether to be furious at you for staying out all night without telling me where you were, or happy that you’re home and safe,” Dori said at last, his voice tight and his face set. 

“I…I’m sorry, Dori,” Ori answered, feeling real shame. “I should have called. I know. It wasn’t intentional! But…well, we fell asleep.”

“And that’s another thing!” Dori answered, his voice rising in pitch a notch. Ori braced himself; now the real torrent would sweep forth. “Nori tells me you had a _date_ last night. That you’ve been going out on dates for some time, have quite the relationship built up, apparently! And yet you did not see fit to tell _me_ anything about it. ‘Out with friends,’ you said. Never ‘on a date.’ No, I had to find out because you _fell asleep_ and somehow our brother knew what I didn’t.”

Ori paused before responding, suddenly understanding something. Dori was upset that he’d been out all night without telling him where he was, yes, but Dori was also hurt that Ori had confided in Nori instead of him. “I never meant to hurt you, Dori,” he said quietly.

“Hurt? Who’s hurt? Did I say I was hurt?” Dori snapped. “I’m only the one you raised you, who spent all his time taking care of you after our parents died. Why should I be the one you talk to about your relationships, hmm? What do I deserve in exchange for years of love and support? Clearly not much. Certainly not the truth!”

With that, Dori turned and stalked away, leaving Ori standing pole-axed in the middle of the hallway. Ori watched him go. He heard Dori’s feet on the stairs and then the sound of his brother’s door slamming shut.

Ori turned back to see Nori standing in the kitchen doorway. “You heard?” Ori asked ruefully.

Nori nodded, his face uncharacteristically grave. “I know he resents me for a lot of things. I haven’t exactly been the ideal brother. I’m sorry that I made this harder for you, Ori.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ori said. “I should have talked to him about this sooner, I know. But I’m going to put it right now. Or I’m going to try, anyway.” 

He walked resolutely past Nori into the kitchen and dug in the junk drawer for a pen and a pad of paper.

 

Dori sat in the chair by his bedroom window, looking at an open book but not really seeing the words. He hadn’t turned a page in at least fifteen minutes. Suddenly he heard a slight noise from the direction of his door and turned to see a small slip of paper being slid underneath. He stared at it for a long, considering moment, and then he closed his book and walked to the door.

It was a note in Ori’s elegant handwriting:

Dori—  
I want all of the people I love to know each other. Please meet us tonight at the Greenwood Wine Bar at 7. I want to make this right, if I can. You’re right. You deserve the truth, and my trust.  
With my love, Ori.


	9. Wine in the Greenwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The confrontation, at last...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tea shop Ori goes to at one point in this chapter is based loosely on a real place. Billy Corgan of Smashing Pumpkins fame has opened a tea shop in a northern suburb of Chicago. I've been there, and I've seen him wearing a salmon-pink cashmere sweater... 
> 
> This is the last full chapter. There might be a brief epilogue, though. Haven't quite decided yet. Thanks for all the wonderful kudos and comments along the way!
> 
> (Ugh, guys, I really hope I did justice to this...)

After Ori left, Dwalin found himself rather at loose ends. His tattoo shop wasn’t open on Sundays, and, while he certainly had some chores he could take care of, he found he simply couldn’t concentrate on anything constructive. Ori had been so upset, so scared. All Dwalin could think about was what Ori might be doing and saying right now. He kept checking his cell, hoping for a text message or a call or _something_ to tell him what was going on. But his phone remained resolutely silent and dark.

Finally, he dug out a sketchbook and his drawing pencils and settled himself in the leather chair by the window. First he tried to draw Ori’s face; he kept remembering the sketches Ori had done of him and wanted to return the favor. But no matter how he tried, nothing came out quite right. He could capture a likeness of Ori’s face, but not the expression he wanted, that heartbreaking little lopsided smile Ori sometimes had. He knew from experience that someone else would look at his sketches and praise them, but he wasn’t happy and that was what mattered. 

After his third attempt landed in a crumpled ball in the trashcan, he gave it up for a bad job and just let his hands go, drawing what they wanted without conscious direction. It was a sort of meditative exercise he sometimes used and it seldom failed to calm him. Some while later, his hands stilled and he looked at what he’d created. Across the top of the page, parallel to the edge of the sheet, he’d drawn Ori’s fountain pen. From the nib leaked a wide puddle of ink which poured down the page. The puddle was amorphous at first, but slowly began to take on form, flowing into a wide array of fantastical shapes. There were flowers there, and a skull, and shapes like wings. He saw an open book and an elegantly arched hand loosely clasping a sword. The head of a dragon peered out from a thicket of ivy leaves, and an acorn was set on a chain like a pendant. He considered the piece carefully. This was an idea worth exploring, he decided finally. Perhaps different shapes in the puddle of ink? He could pick a myth or a story and illustrate it this way. It had potential. 

The shrill blaring of his message alert tone broke the silence in his apartment. Dwalin nearly dropped his sketchbook in surprise, then scooped his phone up off the windowsill in haste.

From: Ori  
 _Greenwood Wine Bar at 6:30? Need to talk to you before Dori arrives. Love you._

Dwalin quickly typed a reply. _I’ll be there. Love you, too._

He looked at the time display on his phone after sending the message. It was just after one o’clock. What the fuck was he going to do with himself in the meantime?

Somehow the time passed. Finally, when he could stand it no longer, Dwalin got up and started to get ready. He took a long, hot shower, breathing in the thick steam as the water pounded against his tense muscles. He shaved his head carefully and applied the after-care lotion that made it gleam—a step he usually didn’t bother with. He trimmed his beard, too, cleaning up the extraneous stubble around his cheeks. He debated over his clothing, and finally decided on the same dark green button-down shirt he’d worn on his first date with Ori, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Over this, he added a black leather vest that had suede inserts on the back in an abstract shape which had always reminded him of two axes crossed at the handles. As he slipped into the vest, he couldn’t help but feel that he was putting on armor, and hoped that the coming meeting wouldn’t literally be a battle. He considered his customary beat-old old steel-toe Docs for a long moment before deciding upon his Frye motorcycle boots instead, cuffing up his dark jeans to show the metal harness hardware on the boots. Finally, he draped his silver Mjölnir pendant around his neck, nestling it under his shirt.

He was dressed. But was he ready?

***

Ori sat at a table in the Greenwood, waiting for Dwalin to arrive. He’d been to this wine bar many times previously with Dori, but he’d never much liked it. The décor was strange, an uncomfortable mix of elaborate Art Nouveau designs and faux-rustic touches. The tables were all old wine barrels with polished planks of wood laid across them, but the chairs were cushioned with leaf-green faux leather and inlaid with multi-colored wood in swirling designs. Ori supposed it sort of worked in an eccentrically eclectic sort of way, but it wasn’t to his taste. 

He found himself fiddling with a cocktail napkin, slowly and methodically tearing it into tiny scraps and forced his hands to stillness. He still wasn’t sure how he’d made it through this long day of waiting. He’d considered going back over to Dwalin’s after he put the note under Dori’s door, but had finally decided against it, thinking it might make things worse. So instead he’d walked to a nearby tea house that was supposedly owned by some aging rock star or other. He didn’t know for sure; he’d certainly never seen anyone in there who looked like a rock star. In fact, for much of the afternoon, the only other person sitting in the place had been a middle-aged man with a shaved head, wearing a salmon-pink cashmere sweater. Ori had ending up drinking far too much chamomile tea while he’d tried to focus on reading the newest Joe Hill novel. At least chamomile wasn’t caffeinated, though. He wasn’t sure he could have survived his already jangling nerves with caffeine added into the mix. 

Finally, he saw Dwalin walk into the bar. Ori stood and waved and the big man headed his way. Ori smiled to see him; Dwalin looked as beautiful as always, making Ori feel drab and boring by comparison. 

“I don’t know what you see in me,” Ori said, after Dwalin had kissed him in greeting. “But I’m sure glad you see it.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Dwalin rumbled with a grin, then sobered. “How did it go?”

Ori sighed. “I actually never got to the part where I told Dori about you,” he answered, then explained about Dori’s anger and sense of betrayal at being the last to know about Ori’s love life, the way Dori had stormed off, and the note Ori had slipped under his door. “So I don’t really know if he’s even going to show up tonight, honestly, but I hope he does.”

“I do, too,” Dwalin said, putting one large hand over Ori’s smaller one. “Now. Should we order something to drink?”

***

The closer it got to seven o’clock, the more frequently Ori fell silent and looked over at the door. Dwalin just sipped at his wine quietly, letting Ori have these last few minutes to prepare himself. He leaned one shoulder against Ori’s to provide a bit of silent comfort, though. Dwalin wasn’t quite sure what he was drinking; Dwalin wasn’t really a wine guy and he’d let Ori order for them both. All he knew was that it was red and didn’t have the raw burn of the cheap stuff he’d had before. Quite tasty, actually. A fellow could get used to this.

Suddenly he felt Ori stiffen beside him and knew Dori must have arrived. Dwalin quickly glanced down at his watch. 7:12 pm. Fashionably late, he supposed. Ori stood up beside him and moved a few steps toward his oncoming brother. Dwalin followed the younger man’s gaze, picking out Dori immediately. 

Dwalin knew that Dori was about his own age, but he looked older. His hair, while meticulously styled, had gone grey prematurely. It lent him a somewhat sophisticated air that Dwalin could appreciate. He wore a brownish tweed blazer with patches of leather on the elbows, trousers that matched the jacket, and a crisp white shirt. He looked, Dwalin considered, more like a literature professor than did Balin, an actual literature professor. Dori’s lips were clenched into a firm line as he approached Ori, and Dwalin braced for battle.

“Well. I’m here,” Dori said, eyeing Ori. “But where is this…” 

Dwalin stood up then, the sudden movement interrupting Dori’s question. He moved to stand beside Ori in silence, keeping his shoulders square as Dori looked him up and down. Ori said nothing, either, only wrapping one arm around Dwalin’s waist. Dwalin draped his own arm protectively over Ori’s shoulders, and they waited together.

“Hmph,” Dori huffed at last, breaking the tableau. “Well. I can’t say I approve of all the piercings and tattoos, but I suppose I can understand his appeal. There’s a certain barbaric splendor about it all.”

Dwalin felt his mouth drop open in shock. He snuck a sideways glance at Ori, only to see the younger man looking exactly as pole-axed as he felt.

Dori looked back and forth between them and his own face twisted into a humorless grin. “Well, how did you _think_ I was going to react? Shout “sinner” and piss myself?”

Dwalin blinked hard. Ori used profanity so seldom that it was a shock to hear the word “piss” come out his rather prim older brother’s mouth. Ori seemed to feel the same way, exclaiming “Dori!” in an astonished voice.

“Oh, psss,” Dori hissed dismissively, brushing past them to take a seat at their table. As Dwalin and Ori tried to gather their wits, Dori caught a passing waiter’s eye and made a gesture. The waiter must have known him, because he nodded at once and hurried off toward the bar.

Once they were all seated again and the waiter had ceremoniously placed a glass of white wine in front of Dori, Dori looked at Ori. “Well. Does he have a name, then?”

“Dwalin Durinsen,” Dwalin interjected, reaching out one hand across the table. Dori eyed it for a moment, then shook. He had a surprisingly firm grip. Dwalin approved.

“Tattoos on your hands,” Dori said, shaking his head. “I suppose I should be grateful your knuckles don’t read “love” and “hate,” or “rock” and “roll,” at least.”

Strangely, Dwalin found himself fighting not to blush. His knuckles were inked with Futhark runes in which, to the best of his ability, he’d tried to transliterate “rock” and “roll.” He’d thought it was clever at the time, but suddenly found himself almost regretting the tattoos. Dori’s disapproval was a powerful force, he reflected ruefully. He could understand why Ori had been so afraid of it.

Ori watched this exchange quietly, still reeling from Dori’s seemingly casual acceptance of the fact that Ori was dating a man. Finally, he couldn’t keep silent any longer.

“Dori…I…you’re…okay with this?” Ori asked. “Me being…gay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re a grown-up. Love whoever you want,” Dori retorted. “I’m more upset that you didn’t tell me about this sooner. I know I can be…difficult…but have I ever given you reason to think I’m some ignorant homophobe, really? But, I do suppose I can understand how this would be hard for you. What I just _can’t_ understand is why you would tell Nori before talking to me.”

“I…just needed some advice,” Ori stammered. 

“That old reprobate clearly didn’t give you _good_ advice, since the very next thing you did was to stay out all night without telling me and make me worry myself sick,” Dori hissed in a low, angry voice. “What did he tell you, anyway? Ignore the boring old fuss-pot and just do what you want? Seems to be _his_ life’s motto, anyway.”

Ori felt himself getting angry now, too. He understood why Dori and Nori did not always get along, but they were both his brothers and he loved them both, not despite their differences but because of them. “You want to know what he told me?” Ori snapped. “He told me I should tell you. He told me I should _trust_ you. He told me that…that you wouldn’t make me choose between you and Dwalin. It’s not his fault I was too scared and stupid to take his advice!”

Dori was silent, then, considering. Ori saw his brother’s face change as the older man slowly took in what he’d said, finally understanding that the reason Ori hadn’t told Dori about Dwalin wasn’t because Ori didn’t love Dori…it was because he _did_.

“Oh, Ori,” Dori said at last, his voice softening. “Is that what you were afraid of?” He reached across the table and patted Ori’s white-knuckled hand gently. “Well. I may not agree with most of our brother’s life choices, but at least he’s perceptive enough to get that right. No, Ori. I won’t make you choose. I love you, little boy.”

Ori felt his eyes well up at the use of the old pet name and knuckled the tears away quickly. “I love you, too.”

Dori swiped at his own face, dabbing the corners of his eyes with a cocktail napkin. Then he fixed Dwalin with a suddenly steely gaze. “So. Dwalin Durinsen. What are your intentions toward my little brother?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to walk a fine line in this entire fic...between pretending that homophobia doesn't exist at all and everything is rosy and making any of these characters into complete villains. I know that for a lot of gay people, the "coming out" discussion doesn't go even a quarter this smoothly, really, and I hope I haven't somehow erased or devalued their experiences by choosing to make Dori accepting. But honestly, I like these characters too much and couldn't bring myself to make Dori a real villain. :-/
> 
> In the end, it all comes down to love and trust.


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ori finally gets a tattoo...and something more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! That's all she wrote! :-D

Ori hopped up into the cherry-red tattoo chair. This should, if all went well, be the final session on his tattoo. They’d been working on the piece for almost six months now, having started it on the one year anniversary of their first date. Ori was well-accustomed to the pain and discomfort of the whole process by now, but that didn’t mean he was exactly looking forward to it. But he did look forward to finally seeing the finished piece. It was a trade-off.

He looked down at his arm while Dwalin chatted with Fili and Kili up front. It had taken him a long time to decide on a design, but he loved his final choice. It was based loosely on the free-style art piece Dwalin had sketched the day he’d met Dori for the first time, but with different shapes emerging from the ink puddle. The leaky fountain pen stretched across the top of his shoulder from the base of his neck to the edge of his right arm, and the nib spilled ink down his upper arm. That ink started black and formless, but, as in Dwalin’s original piece, took on shape and color the further it got from the pen. Ori had walked through the shop and picked out individual pieces of flash from the walls, and Dwalin had incorporated them into the design, but in a warped fashion that rendered the cliché shapes almost unrecognizable. The points of a nautical star trailed off into tendrils like tentacles. A skull was wreathed in flower petals instead of flames. An anchor floated upside-down like a balloon, its chain caught in the mouth of a swallow with wings of flame. The piece wrapped his entire arm, culminating finally in a dragon spitting snowflakes instead of fire. The entire outline was completed, and much of the color. All that was left to fill in was the dragon and its icy breath.

Ori thought back to his first meeting with Dwalin, how the older man had told him he should choose a tattoo that was more than flash. Well, he had, in the most literal way possible. And it was perfect, and they had worked on it together. Ori knew he wasn’t the first tattooed librarian in the world, or even the first tattooed librarian at his branch, but when he caught sight of people looking at his tattoo he could not help but be proud of himself and remember how he’d admired a pretty barista with a pretty tattoo once upon a time. Even Dori had, eventually, admitted that the piece was beautiful. “Though I’d prefer to see it framed on a wall, not scarred into your skin,” his brother had added with a sniff.

Dwalin came into the work area then, knocking him from his reverie. “Ready?” his lover asked with a wide grin. “This is it!”

“Ready!” Ori agreed, stretching his arm out along the chair-arm.

Dwalin leaned in and kissed him gently, then turned away to rummage in the cabinets where he kept his supplies. 

“Damnit,” Dwalin growled under his breath. “Nothing’s in the right place! Those boys are so disorganized! Knew I should never have let Kili start working here. Where’s my bottle of blue? And what the hell is this?”

He turned back around with a small brown cardboard box in his hands and handed it to Ori. “Take a look at this, see what it is, would you? I’ve got to find my blue…” He turned back to the cabinet.

Ori took the small box, perplexed. It didn’t look like any of the other supplies in the shop. He opened it and found another box inside, this one of black leather with a hinged top. His heart gave a hard thump in his chest at the sight of it. Slowly, he lifted back the hinged lid. A band of white gold with a star sapphire set flush with the metal winked back at him.

Ori looked up. Dwalin had turned around and was smiling at him gently. Ori’s heart was beating now in earnest; he could feel its hard thumping in his throat.

“Ori…will you marry me?” Dwalin asked, going to his knees beside the chair. 

Ori stared into Dwalin’s eyes for a long moment, frozen with shock. “Yes…yes, of course!” he managed finally. Dwalin gave a most uncharacteristic whoop and kissed Ori hard before slipping the ring onto his finger.

Ori flung his arms around Dwalin’s neck and found himself laughing and crying at the same time. “Oh, Dwalin. I love you. And to think, I’d never have even met you if Dori weren’t so unbearable sometimes,” Ori said with a laugh.

“And I’d never have seen you again if Balin hadn’t shamed me into a library visit,” Dwalin answered, grinning fiercely.

Ori laughed. “Well. I guess we know who we each have to pick as Best Man, then!”


End file.
